


Lovely

by Eldalire



Series: Dreaming Dreams [6]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Adoption, Child Abuse, Cute, M/M, Past Abuse, Sweet, foster child, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan and Feuilly decide to try their hand at foster parenting, but neither of them expected to house a child as unique as Lyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            “I’m so excited!” Jehan said with a smile from the passenger seat as Feuilly drove them to the local Family Services station.  “Do you think he’ll be sweet?”  Feuilly shrugged.

            “Don’t get too excited, Sweet,” he replied. “The social worker said he was abused. He might not be all that…affectionate.”

            “But me and you, we’ll make him so happy, I know it!  I can’t wait!  We’ll have to go out and get him all new furniture for his bedroom and decorate and get his favorite food and everything!” Jehan cooed as they parked, grinning from ear to ear.  Feuilly parked the car and ran around to Jehan’s door, opening it and lifting him out, spinning him around.  His flow-y sleeves billowing as he twirled. Then Feuilly put him down and hugged him tight.

            “Love you.”

            “Love you too, Dearest.” They walked inside, hand in hand, to meet the child they were to foster.

 

            “You’re Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire?” the woman as the front desk asked, looking through her papers.

            “That’s us.” Feuilly replied with a little grin.

            “You’re here for Lyle!  He’s waiting for you in the next room over with a social worker.  I’ll show you back.” She smiled, leading Feuilly and Jehan down a short hallway and opening a door to a smallish room, containing a sofa, two armchairs, and a coffee table.  There, a woman sat on a chair in the corner, and a young boy sat on the sofa, pressed into the corner, his hands clasped in his lap, looking down. He looked rather dejected, and Jehan was immediately concerned.

            “Hello, Lyle!” he said lightly in an effort to cheer the child up. He did not react.

            “Lyle, this is Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire.”

            “We liked your letters.” Feuilly smiled.  They had received a few short letters in the mail from the little boy. Though all of them seemed forced and generic, they still brought a smile to Jehan and Feuilly’s faces. They had entered the foster program a year ago, but hadn’t been called to care for a child until now. They were both very excited, though Jehan showed it more obviously than Feuilly.

            Still, Lyle did not look up.

            “Could you say hello, Lyle?” the woman in the chair asked.  The little boy finally looked up, sad, brown eyes looking straight to Feuilly and Jehan.

            “Hello.” He said quietly, returning his gaze to the stuffed dog sitting in his lap.

            “Oh I like your puppy!” Jehan cooed, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa from the little boy.  “I have a raccoon that Feuilly gave me.  I still sleep with it at night, sometimes.” He admitted, his soft-spoken nature seeming to incite a smile from the little boy, though it was brief.

            “We thought you’d be a good fit for Lyle.  You both seem very soft spoken and quiet.  There was quite a bit of verbal abuse in his previous household, and I didn’t want to expose him to any more of that” the social worker explained quietly to Feuilly as Jehan continued to acquaint himself with Lyle, speaking with him softly, hardly more than a whisper.  He took the circlet of flowers off his own head and placed it on Lyle’s gently.

            “We also chose you two for Jean Prouvaire’s mannerisms…” she added in a whisper to Feuilly.

            “What do you mean?” he replied, slightly worried.  What did she mean ‘mannerisms’?  Jehan was quirky, yes, but he didn’t think he’d be considered especially different from anyone else.

            “He’s quiet and has a…feminine air about him, for lack of a better adjective. I don’t mean to offend.”

            “No it’s okay.  He knows he looks like a girl.” Feuilly replied with a chuckle.

            “Lyle lived with his father, and while I think he needs to get over his fear of other men, I didn’t want him to be frightened.  That being said, do not take it personally if he shies away from you and prefers Jean Prouvaire.” She explained.  “It’s all in the information packet I mailed you.”

            “Yup. We read that all the way through.” Feuilly said with a smile.  He and Jehan had more or less memorized all of the information concerning Lyle. They wanted to do this right, and they wanted the little boy to be happy with them.

            “Lyle, are you ready to go?” the woman asked him after a moment. The little boy became closed off again, taking the ring of flowers off his head and holding it nervously in his lap with his stuffed dog.  He shrugged.

            “We’ve got a room all set up just for you!” Jehan cooed.

            “My own room?” the little boy asked quietly.  Nobody understood what he said besides Jehan.

            “Yup. Your very own room. We didn’t decorate it, though…We wanted to wait to see what you liked.” He explained.  “Would you like to see?”  Lyle nodded.

            “I got your bags!” Feuilly said, lifting up the two large suitcases of Lyle’s belongings.

            “Call if you need anything!  Lyle, you know the number if you need us, too.” The social worker said with a smile. Lyle followed Feuilly and Jehan out of the room and to the car, holding Jehan’s hand tightly, watching Feuilly, leery.

 

—o0o—

 

            “Your room is upstairs!” Jehan said, bouncing into the house, followed by Lyle, who watched his excitement, giggling.  “Come see!” He hurried up the stairs.  Lyle followed, but stopped short when he realized Feuilly was behind him. He seemed to recoil into himself, sitting on the stairs, horror in his face.

            “Feuilly.” Jehan called from the top of the stairs.  Feuilly looked up, and Jehan motioned to Lyle with his head.

            “Oh.” Feuilly headed back down the stairs and sitting on the chair near the door.  He offered Lyle a smile, which he did not return.  Instead, he scurried up the stairs, using his hands as well as his little legs in his ascent. He followed Jehan down the hall, into what was previously the guest bedroom.

            “Sorry the walls are pink!” Jehan said as Lyle entered, immediately heading toward the king-size bed and sitting on it.  He smiled.  “We didn’t want to paint it or anything…we weren’t sure what you like.”

            “I like pink.” He said quietly, looking around.

            “Oh it’s okay if you don’t!  We can paint again, if you’d like.”

            “No I like pink.” He said again, pulling up the cuffs of his jeans, showing off a pair of bright pink socks.  Jehan smiled.

            “I do too.” He replied, showing off his own pair of pale pink socks, decorated with white hearts.

            “I like those.” Lyle said.

            “These are my favorite socks.  Feuilly gave them to me for my birthday when I turned 20.” He explained. “I only wear them on special days so they don’t wear out!”  Lyle looked around the room, up at the crown molding, at the massive walk-in closet, the door hanging half open in the corner.  He admired the pale pink and green floral bedspread and crisp white sheets.

            “You’re rich.” He said quietly.  Jehan chuckled, unsure what to say.

            “It’s all in my family.  My grandpa made most of the money, but Feuilly and I both work hard, too. It’s good to work for what you have.” He explained. 

            “do you have a—” he cut off when Feuilly knocked on the doorframe, smiling as he delivered Lyle’s luggage. 

            “Hi.” He said simply with a little wave.  Lyle only looked at him, silent.  Jehan stood up from the bed and  gave Feuilly a hug, hoping to convey to Lyle that Fueilly wasn’t scary in the least. Feuilly kissed Jehan’s hair.

            “Thank you for bringing everything up, Dearest.” He said with a sweet smile.

            “Sure. I’ll start dinner, I guess. What’s your favorite, Lyle?” Feuilly asked.  Lyle did not reply.

            “We’ll make whatever you like best!” Jehan added.

            “Take away pizza.” He replied quietly.

            “That’s my favorite too.” Feuilly chuckled.

            “What would you like on it?” Jehan asked with a smile.

            “Onions and mushrooms.” He said.

            “Bleh! I don’t like mushrooms!” Feuilly made a face, meaning to make Lyle laugh, but instead he flinched and began to cry quietly.  Jehan ran to his side.

            “Oh baby don’t cry!  It’s alright!”

            “Sorry. I was trying to make you laugh…Guess not, huh?” Feuilly said apologetically. 

            “Don’t get that.  Don’t get mushrooms!” Lyle chanted into Jehan, rocking back and forth, his hands over his face, as if defending himself.

            “It’s alright.  Feuilly doesn’t mind. We’ll get half onions and mushrooms, half plain for Feuilly, alright?”

            “No. No he’ll be mad.” He sobbed.

            “I won’t be mad!” Feuilly smiled.  “I don’t really get mad, kiddo.” He chuckled.

            “Nothing you do will make us angry with you.  Don’t you worry.  Would you like a hug?” Jehan asked.  Lyle nodded and climbed into Jehan’s lap.  Jehan put his arms around the little boy and hugged him tight. Feuilly embraced both of them, holding them both in his strong arms.  Lyle seemed nervous when Feuilly joined in, but seemed to cheer up, and stopped crying.

            “Want to go pick up the pizza with me?” Jehan asked Lyle.  He nodded, and Jehan smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Jehan took Lyle out for a bit of a shopping trip.  He hadn’t brought much in the way of clothes, and even fewer personal belongings.  Jehan took him to the local shopping mall, and tried to let Lyle lead the way, but he seemed reluctant.

            “What sorts of clothes do you like, Lyle?” Jehan asked, holding his hand. Lyle shrugged.

            “You’re nearly 11.  That’s almost a teenager!  Why don’t we just head into a department store and let you poke around.  Does that sound alright?” Lyle shrugged again, sticking close to Jehan, seeming nervous, looking around at everyone walking past. Jehan lead him into a department store and let him look around in the children’s department.

            “I like shopping in the fall.” Jehan said with a smile.  “Jumpers are my favorite.”

            “I like jumpers.” Lyle said simply, running his hand down the sleeve of a sweater. Lyle seemed to like it, but there was only one left, and it was an extra large—too big for little Lyle.

            “Would you like me to see if they have another size?” Jehan asked. Lyle nodded.  Jehan took the jumper off the hanger and headed over to a nearby service counter.  “I’ll be right over there. Keep looking, if you’d like.” He smiled. Lyle continued poking around the department, running his hands over things that seemed especially soft or interesting. Eventually, he found himself in the girls’ side of the department, but continued looking around, hesitating when he saw a soft cashmere jumper in a pale peachy shade.  He smiled, running his hands down the sleeves for quite a while, daydreaming.

            “Do you like that one?” Jehan asked.  Lyle startled and jumped.

            “No. Sorry.  I’m sorry.” He babbled.

            “It’s alright.” Jehan said with a smile.  “It’s also alright if you like it.  You were looking at it for a while.” He chuckled lightly.

            “I’m not allowed.” He replied quietly.

            “Why not?” Jehan asked, confused.  “It’s a nice jumper.  It looks soft.” He smiled again.

            “It’s for girls.” He admitted, looking down.

            “That’s okay!  If you like it, you should get it.”

            “I’m not allowed to wear girl clothes.”  Jehan frowned.

            “Do you like wearing girl’s clothes, Lyle?” Jehan asked, crouching down and placing a gently hand on Lyle’s arm.  He was quiet for a long moment before nodding.

            “I’m sorry.” He said again, seeming to flinch.

            “There isn’t anything to be sorry for!” Jehan smiled.  “I like wearing girl’s clothes, too!” he said, looking down at his own floral top.  “I even wear my hair long! It’s alright.  You’re allowed to like girls clothes.  You’re allowed to like whatever you…well…whatever you like!”

            “But I’m not a girl.”

            “That’s alright.  I’m not a girl either, but that doesn’t stop me.” He explained.  “Do you like the peachy jumper, Lyle?” he asked.  Lyle nodded.  “Then you should get the peachy jumper.” He took the sweater off the rack and hung it over his wrist with a grin.  Lyle smiled.

            He and Jehan continued perusing the store, this time sticking to the girl’s section, where Lyle seemed to like more of his choices.

            “I like this.  With the owls.” He said, pulling a long sleeved t shirt from the rack.  It was a creamy color, decorated with a repeating pattern of small owls in a shade of pale green.

            “Oh I like that too!  Here’s a necklace that matches.” He smiled, carefully removing a thin silver chain from the hanger, a little owl hanging in the middle.

            “Can I wear that?” he asked, seeming worried again.

            “I’m wearing one.” Jehan smiled, pulling his own necklace from under his shirt collar.  “It’s an elephant, see?” he said.  “Elephants are lucky, you know.”

            “Really?”

            “Mm hm.”

            “But that’s an owl.  Can I wear the owl one? Or is that for girls?”

            “Feuilly really likes owls.  He has an owl necklace that he wears all the time.” Jehan explained. Feuilly did have a hemp macramé necklace with a small owl bead carved in bone right in the middle. He rarely took it off.

            “Can we get it?”

            “Sure we can!”

            “My daddy never let me get clothes like this.” He said, moving to another rack, inspecting a plain white shirt with crocheted sleeves.

            “I’m sorry to hear that.”  Jehan said with a little frown.  He was beginning to get a sense of why Lyle was so disliked by his father, and it was disgusting. Lyle was quite obviously more feminine in taste, but it seemed to Jehan that particular trait had been stifled. Lyle had a very masculine haircut, short on the sides, a bit scruffy and longer on the top, and all of the clothes he had brought with him were black or another dark color, and decorated with masculine motifs: motorcycles, graffiti-like fonts, and rock band logos. What’s worse, Lyle was beaten and abused for it.  It made Jehan sick to his stomach knowing that such a sweet little boy had been completely crushed in such a way.  He reminded Jehan so much of himself as a child, and was suddenly very thankful for his supportive parents.

            “Can I get this one too?” he asked, looking up to Jehan, holding one of the crochet sleeves in his hand.  Jehan smiled.

            “Sure! I really like that.”

            “It’s like the shirt you had yesterday.” Lyle grinned.

            “You’re right!”

            “Could we get a flower crown too?” he asked quietly, a smile stretched across his rosy face.

            “I’ll make you one once we get home.  Is that alright?” Jehan asked.  Lyle nodded enthusiastically.  “Now let’s go pick out shoes.  You only have your sneakers.” Jehan noted.

            “Can I get ones like yours?” he asked, looking at Jehan’s Chuck Taylors: one pink, one pale yellow.  Jehan grinned.

            “You’ll look just like me!” Lyle blushed.  “You don’t have to look like me, you know, unless you want to. Whatever makes you happy.” The little boy smiled.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle and Jehan returned home a few hours later, a plethora of different colored bags in Jehan’s hands.  Feuilly looked up from the comic book he was reading on the couch and smiled.

            “Wow! Looks like you guys had fun.” He said.

            “Tons of fun! Lyle has a whole new wardrobe!” Jehan cooed.

            “Cool. Let’s see!” Feuilly replied with a smile. Lyle stuck close to Jehan, standing almost behind him, seeming worried.

            “We got lots of new shirts.” Jehan began, sitting on the floor in the middle of the shopping bags.  Lyle followed suit. Jehan pulled out Lyle’s new collection of tops and showed them to Feuilly one by one, hoping to convey to Lyle that Feuilly was not like his father.

            “I like the owl one.” Feuilly smiled.  “What else?”

            “Would you like to show him, Lyle?” Jehan asked.  Lyle nodded and reached into another bag, pulling out a pair of floral leggings he had taken a liking to.

            “You’re just like Jehan!” Feuilly mused with a chuckle.  Lyle continued pulling from the bags, showing Feuilly everything he and Jehan had gotten, finally pulling his robin’s-egg-blue high top Chuck Taylors out of the box with a big smile.

            “Those are a cool color.  I’ve never seen them before.” Feuilly smiled.  “Mine are green.” He held up his own neon sneakers.  Lyle smiled.  “Did you have fun?”

            “Yup.” Lyle replied quietly.  It was the first word he had spoken directly to Feuilly, and the young man beamed.

            “Oh I’m so glad you had a fun time, Lovely!” Jehan cooed, crouching down and giving Lyle a hug, which he returned with a smile.

 

 

 

~Say hello!  What do you like?  What do you not like?  Any ideas?  I'd be happy to write up a chapter for you!


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, he’s a little nervous around men because his father abused him, so I’m just going to have one or two of you come in at a time, except Cosette.  You can come in whenever you feel like it, Lovely.” Jehan explained with a smile as he sat in the living room, surrounded by friends all eager to meet little Lyle Jehan had told them so much about.

            “Alright. Sounds good.  Who’s first?” Grantaire asked with a grin.

            “Um…You and Enjolras could probably go in at the same time.  He’s been playing with René for a while and saw you guys before…” Jehan thought.  “Come on, I’ll be back for more people in a sec!  Thank you so much, Lovelies.  You’re so understanding!”

            “Anything to make the little guy happy.” Courfeyrac grinned. Combeferre nodded in agreement. Jehan lead Enjolras and Grantaire into the kitchen, where Lyle was sitting at the table with René and Feuilly. Lyle ran his hands through the piles of uncooked rice as René drove his matchbox cars through it. Feuilly watched them with a smile before looking up at Enjolras and Grantaire with a smile.

            “Lyle?” Jehan said softly.  The little boy looked up, fisting his hands around the sleeves of his slightly-too-big pink sweater. He recoiled a bit at Grantaire, but relaxed when René reached up and said ‘Papa!’ sweetly.

            “Hey Sunshine!” he replied.  René stood on his chair and Grantaire gave him a hug.

            “Lyle this is Grantaire and Enjolras.  They’re René’s parents.  You saw Enjolras when he dropped René off earlier, right?”  Lyle nodded and gave a little wave.

            “I like your jumper, Lyle.” Enjolras said softly with a mild smile.

            “Thanks.” Lyle replied quietly with a little blush.

            “I have a jumper too, Daddy!” René cooed as Grantaire released him, showing Enjolras his own yellow sweater.

            “Yes you do, Baby.  Your favorite color!” Enjolras said, giving René’s hair a rub.

            “Yellow!” René sang, returning to his matchbox car, driving it through the rice on the table as Lyle watched quietly, occasionally glancing back and looking at Grantaire, who was sitting at the kitchen counter.

            “Are you ready to meet Marius and Cosette?” Jehan asked.  Lyle nodded.  Jehan opened the door into the kitchen and Marius and Cosette came in slowly as Lyle watched, his eyes flicking between Marius and Grantaire.  Enjolras was of little concern to him, though nobody could really explain why, besides the fact that he came across as slightly feminine, but nowhere near as much as Jehan.  Nobody questioned it.  As long as Lyle was comfortable, it didn’t matter.

            “Hello, Lyle!” Cosette said brightly, handing the little boy a small wrapped box. She thought it might be nice to give Lyle a little something for being so brave.

            “Hi.” Lyle replied with a small smile.  “Thank you.” he looked up at Marius.  “You have nice hair.” He said.  Marius blushed a deep pink.

            “Oh! Um...thanks!” he babbled. Marius rarely received compliments. His reddish hair and awkward freckly face was a bit off-putting, and few people paid much attention to him, seeing as Cosette was so unusually beautiful.

            “Open your box!” Cosette cooed, hopping up onto the countertop, placing her sock-covered feet onto Grantaire’s knee as he sat.  Marius leaned on the counter next to her.

            “Can I?” Lyle asked quietly, looking to Feuilly.

            “Go for it.” He replied with his crooked smile.  Lyle grinned and untied the purple bow before carefully opening the little box.  When he removed the lid, he giggled.

            “They’re just like yours, Jehan!” he said, holding up a pair of pale pink socks decorated with white hearts.

            “Feuilly told me you like socks.” Cosette explained with a smile.

            “Socks are my favorite!” Lyle cooed.  Jehan took Lyle’s willingness to converse as a sign he was ready for more company, and waved Courfeyrac and Combeferre into the kitchen.

            Lyle waved a bit hesitantly as Courfeyrac peeked around the door.

            “Hi!” he said.  “Sorry I didn’t bring you a present.” He shrugged.

            “That’s okay.” Lyle replied quietly, playing with the cuffs of his sweater again.

            “Hi Uncle Courf!” René said from Enjolras’ lap.

            “Hey Little Buddy!” Courfeyrac smiled, heading over to the side of the table and sitting down next to Enjolras, across from Lyle, who watched him intently, but didn’t seem especially on edge.  Combeferre peeked around the door next, and Feuilly waved him in.

            “Nice to meet you, Lyle.” He smiled from the doorway.  Lyle whipped his head around and the color drained from his face immediately.  Combeferre frowned slightly, concerned.  Had he done something wrong?  Lyle’s face contorted into one of horror, and he sprung from his chair, more or less throwing it to the ground at Combeferre’s feet before running to Jehan, screaming into Jehan’s floral sweatshirt.  Jehan held him as he began to shake visibly, and Enjolras took it as a cue to remove René from the room.  Everyone else followed suit shortly, and soon only Jehan, Feuilly, and Lyle remained.

            “It’s okay, Baby.  Shhh. Shhh.” Jehan cooed gently, rubbing Lyle’s back.  He and Feuilly had both gone to parenting classes for parents of children with anxiety—as suggested by the social worker who connected them with Lyle—and were implementing what they had learned.  Let them cry, let them calm down, hold them if that makes them feel better, reassure them everything is alright.  “You did a very good job. You were very brave.” He continued with a smile. Lyle looked up at him, tears making his cheeks and nose red.  He rubbed his eyes.

            “Sorry.” He whispered, beginning to cry again.  Jehan held him tight.

            “Oh Lovely there isn’t anything to be sorry for.  You did a wonderful job!  We’re so proud of you!”  Feuilly nodded in agreement, brushing Lyle’s hair off his sweaty forehead.

            “How come Combeferre scared you, bud?” Feuilly asked once the little boy had calmed down a bit.  He shrugged, clearly able to answer, but unwilling.  He looked away.

            “Do we have a picture of his pop, Babydoll?” Feuilly asked Jehan. He nodded. 

            “It’s with the rest of his file.  I think it’s attached to his birth certificate…”  Feuilly left the room and returned a moment later, gazing at the wallet sized picture of Lyle’s father, his eyes wide.

            “Jehan check this out.” He showed the picture to him.  Lyle hid his face in Jehan’s shoulder.

            “He looks just like Combeferre.  Even the glasses and beard are the same.” Jehan noted.  “Oh Lovely I’m so sorry.  Combeferre didn’t mean to scare you!  He’s such a sweetie.”

            “Might help if he shaves and takes the glasses off.” Feuilly suggested. Jehan nodded.

            “No don’t make him.” Lyle mumbled against Jehan. 

            “Don’t worry, Baby, everyone just wants to make sure you’re happy and comfortable.  Combeferre will gladly shave his scruffy chin for you.” Jehan smiled.

            “No it’s okay.” He said again, sliding off Jehan’s lap and wiping his eyes on his sweater sleeve.  He headed to the kitchen door and peeked out.  Everyone was consoling a heartbroken Combeferre on the sofa.

            “It wasn’t your fault, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac said to him with a smile, gingerly removing one of Combeferre’s hands from his face, followed shortly by the other, then giving him a kiss on the cheek, rubbing his tears away with his nose.

            “I didn’t mean to scare him.  I feel so terrible.  The poor thing!” he said through his tears, sniffling.

            “I’m sorry.” Lyle cooed from behind the door, just barely peering out into the living room.

            “Oh no, Lyle!   _I’m_ sorry!” Combeferre replied with a meek smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I never would have come if I knew—”

            “It’s not your fault.” The little boy replied with a grin.

            “Lyle can we play trucks?” René asked, scurrying across the room and meeting Lyle at the door.

            “Okay!” Lyle replied with a grin.  Jehan smiled, leaning into Feuilly as they stood in the doorway. Combeferre grinned, as did everyone else.

            “That is a remarkable little boy you’ve got there, guys. Combeferre said.


	4. Chapter 4

Feuilly walked into the courthouse, trying his best to seem brave and put together, but in reality, he was shaking like a leaf and bunched up in a suit that was probably a size too small. Even so, he marched into the court room confidently, taking his spot on one of the benches at the front of the room. The judge’s podium loomed over him as people filed into the room; lawyers, jury…the defendant.

            Feuilly suddenly tensed when he saw the man walk into the room, flanked by cops, in a bright orange uniform.  His hands were cuffed.  He sat down on the bench across the isle from Feuilly, and looked at him briefly, exhaustion, fear, and something darker played across his face, and Feuilly looked away.

            Feuilly had been called to court in an effort to eliminate Lyle’s father’s custody and visitation rights, and to turn him over to Feuilly and Jehan so that they might adopt him permanently.  Jehan and Lyle were waiting in an empty office in the courthouse, waiting to be called in, should they be needed.  Nobody wanted to force Lyle to see his father if he didn’t want to or did not feel that he could.

            Feuilly braved another glace to Lyle’s father, Devin, as he stood up for the arrival of the judge.  He really did look like an older Combeferre—before he had shaved for Lyle’s comfort, that is—and it unnerved Feuilly.  How could someone so terrible, abusive, and unkind resemble someone as sweet and quiet as Combeferre?  It baffled him. He sat down again next to Lyle’s lawyer, an older woman called Flora, and waited patiently, listening as both lawyers spoke back and forth about Lyle’s best interest. 

            _What a waste of time,_ Feuilly thought to himself.  _That asshole’s never going to get Lyle.  He’s in a prison uniform, for crying out loud!_

            “Who would want to separate a child from their biological parent?” Devin’s lawyer asked, looking around the room.  “Study after study has shown that children who grow up with their biological parents are more likely to succeed and less likely to be arrested than adopted children.” He continued.

            _What a crock of shit_ Feuilly thought.

            “But do those studies take into account children who are abused by their biological parents?” Flora replied.

            “My client has stated numerous times that he had been falsely accused. Is spanking a child really abuse?”

            “Lyle was most certainly further abused, and the abuse was not only physical, but verbal and emotional as well.  His social worker and therapist both individually diagnosed him with PTSD, depression, and extreme anxiety/panic disorder.  That does not come from a spanking.”

            “Is there any physical evidence to show one way or another?” the judge asked from up on her podium.  Flora handed her a stack of photos, and a slideshow of the same images appeared on a small television screen for the jury to see.  Feuilly was shocked when he saw the slides, all of them of the little boy he had come to think of as his own.  One was of Lyle’s back, covered in welts and bruises, obviously from a belt. The next image was of his skinny little arm, covered in yet more bruises, his lower arm a watercolor of black, blue, green, and yellow.  It brought a tear to Feuilly’s eyes, but the final images really caused him to break down.

            The final pictures flashed onto the screen, and there was a discernable gasp from the audience.  the first was Lyle’s face, though it was hardly recognizable as Lyle.  His right cheek was massively swollen, as if he had gotten a tooth pulled, and his lower lip was fat and red, as well as split and bleeding. His left eye was black and swollen shut, and a Band-Aid was stuck on his chin, which was also saturated with blood.   The second and third were full body images, and there was another discernible gasp at the obvious sexual abuse Lyle had endured. The pictures were taken from a hospital room.

            “This picture was taken from the emergency room less than an hour from authorities receiving a call from Mr. Blanchet’s neighbor, Ms. LeBlanc.” Flora paused and looked to Lyle’s father: Devin Blanchet, then to his neighbor, who sat across the room; an older woman.  She then looked back to the judge. “Ms. LeBlanc heard screaming from the Blanchet home earlier this fall through an open window, then saw upon investigation Mr. Blanchet beating his son with a belt, later discarding the belt and opting instead for his fists.”

            “I’d like to question Ms. LeBlanc.” Devin’s lawyer stated. Ms. LeBlanc stood. The Bailiff held a Bible up and she placed her hand on it, as she swore the oath to refrain from lying. She then sat beside the judge on the bench.

            “Tell me, Ms., what exactly were you doing on the night of September 28th of this year?  That is the night the paramedics were called to Mr. Blanchet’s home.

            “I was watching the television.” The woman said, pushing her massive glasses up her nose.  She was elderly indeed, but seemed sweet—someone Feuilly would have liked to have as a grandmother.

            “And what was it that prompted you to head next door and look through Mr. Blanchet’s back screen door?”

            “I heard shouting, then terrible screaming from the little boy.” She replied, seeming startled and uncomfortable thinking back to the event.

            “But is that not trespassing, Ms. LeBlanc?” the lawyer asked. Feuilly was disgusted. How could you use such a petty argument when a child’s life was in the balance?!

            “Well…yes, but—”

            “But what?” the lawyer replied, looking around to see the jury’s reactions. He was not impressed.

            “But I was worried for the little boy.  I thought he might be in danger.  And I’m very glad I called for the police.” Feuilly nodded to himself, pleased with her answer.  Thank God that lovely old woman was there, for without her, Lyle might be dead.

            “Thank you, Ms. LeBlanc.” The judge said with a smile, motioning the woman to sit down again.  She smiled politely and returned to her seat.  “Would the next witness please approach the bench?” she continued.  That was Feuilly.  He stood, and placed his right hand onto the Bible.

            “Do you wear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

            “I do.” Feuilly replied with a meek smile.  He sat down on the bench beside the judge’s podium. Flora stood and looked at him with a smile before she began questioning.

            “Feuilly Prouvaire is currently acting as caregiver to Lyle. Tell me, Mr. Prouvaire—”

            “Um…J-just Feuilly’s okay.” He smiled meekly.  “My husband’s Prouvaire.” He grinned.  The jury chuckled lightly.  Devin looked disgusted.

            “Alright then, Feuilly,” Flora continued with a smile, “How has Lyle been adjusting to living with you and your family?”

            “Pretty good. He, uh…He was a little…a lot nervous when he first came.  He wouldn’t even look at me, he was scared.  But he’s great now. He’s got friends and goes to school three days a week.  The other two days he’s in therapy, but he seems to be doing great.” Feuilly smiled.

            “Glad to hear it.  How many panic attacks has Lyle experienced since he’s come to live with you?”

            “Um…He had a little melt down the day he came to live with us because he thought I was mad at him for liking mushrooms on his pizza…” another chuckle from the audience rattled around the room.  “ Then he had a little panic attack when we introduced him to a few friends…Um, our buddy Combeferre looks a bit like Lyle’s dad, and he got a little scared, but by the end of the day, he and Combeferre were great.  He gave him a hug before he left and laughed and smiled. He did great.” Feuilly beamed.

            “Only two attacks?”

            “Uh…he still has nightmares sometimes, but not as often as when he first came…I don’t know if those count as panic attacks…He’s probably had about four since we’ve gotten him, but I’m honestly not really sure.  They’re few and far between.” He said.

            “And do you believe Lyle is happy living with you and Jean Prouvaire?”

            “Yeah. Yeah I do.  He seems really happy!  But I guess you’d have to ask him to be sure.” He smiled. “I think he’s happy.”

            “Does the defense wish to question?” the judge asked as Flora sat down. Devin’s lawyer stood and approached Feuilly.

            “Feuilly, correct?” he asked.

            “Yup.” Feuilly replied with a little smile, doing his best to be civil, though he felt a burning desire to crack the man in the jaw.

            “Tell me what you do for a living, Mr. Feuilly.”

            “Uh, I’m a mechanic and sort of a handy-man.  I’m good at fixing things.”  He smiled.

            “I see.  And how much does that pay annually?”

            “About…30,000 euro a year…” he replied.

            “I see.  And what does your husband do?”

            “He has a degree in art history and sort of curates museums on and off…I don’t know exactly how much he makes a year.  He publishes lots of poetry in magazines, too.”

            “And you support yourselves on a bit more than 30,000 euros a year?”

            “Well…there’s, uh…there’s money in the family.  Jehan’s parents and grandparents and their parents are all well off. Money isn’t really an issue…I feel so pretentious.” He grinned.  The jury laughed again, seeming to like Feuilly.

            “Feuilly, where did you learn your trade?  Which school did you attend?” the lawyer asked, seeming to smirk. He knew the answer.

            “I sort of taught myself…I’ve never been to school.”

            “Not even elementary school?” the lawyer pushed, seeming a bit sarcastic. Feuilly kept calm and answered truthfully.

            “No. I was orphaned as an infant and ran away from the orphanage when I was ten.  I lived in this tent I found in a dumpster.  School never really occurred to me until it was too late, I guess.” He replied.

            “Tell me, in what way are you qualified to parent a child if you haven’t had basic education?”

            “Well, I wouldn’t say I don’t have basic education…I can do math and make change and write and read.  I know how to fill out a checkbook and file a tax return…I’d say I’ve got the basics down.” he smiled meekly.

            “But that is an opinion, is it not?” the lawyer continued.

            “Yes.” He replied simply.

            “Do you or your husband have experience caring for a special needs child?”

            “Lyle isn’t special needs…He’s just a little…jumpy, I guess. I don’t know all the medical stuff, but he’s a pretty normal little guy.” He shrugged with a smile.

            “It says here that Lyle experiences panic attacks, flashbacks, and is severely depressed.  Doesn’t that count as special needs?”

            “I wouldn’t say so…He’s cool as long as he takes his medication and stuff.”

            “You haven’t answered my question.”

            “What question?”

            “Do you or Jean Prouvaire have experience caring for a special needs child?”

            “No, but—”

            “And Lyle has grown up with my client, Mr. Blanchet, his entire life. Mr. Blanchet clearly has experience dealing with a child who has special needs.  Ten years of experience, in fact.”

            “Okay, sorry for interrupting, but we don’t _deal with_ Lyle.  We support him, and love him, and live a happy life with him.  Second, Lyle has stated numerous times that his father beat the sh…beat him.  It doesn’t matter how much experience he has!  If he’s abusing the kid—”

            “Order.” The judge said when Feuilly stood up, looking down on the scrawny lawyer. He sat down when the gavel struck the podium.  He sighed.

            “Sorry.” He mumbled.

            “You have a bit of a temper, Mr. Feuilly.  Is a man with a temper really the best fit for a child with anxiety?” the lawyer turned and asked the jury rhetorically.  “No further questions now, your Honor.” He finished, returning to his bench. Flora stood beside the television, flipping it on and putting in another DVD slide show.

            “These are pictures of Lyle that Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire have given us as proof of Feuilly’s statements.  Lyle is most certainly happy in his current environment.  She smiled as she pressed the button on the remote, starting with a slide of Lyle, in his favorite pink jumper, laughing hysterically and Jehan accidentally dumping an entire can of sprinkles all over the countertop. Feuilly chuckled, as did most of the jury.  The next picture was of Lyle in a big yellow sweater, sitting on a stone wall in the park with a grin, a wreath of fresh flowers in his hair.  There were two more pictures from the same day: one of him playing with a puppy, and another of Feuilly giving him a piggyback ride.  After that came pictures of Lyle playing Jehan’s old flute—he had taken a liking to it, and Jehan was teaching him to play. The final image was of Feuilly and Jehan, with Lyle standing between them, all of them smiling, all of them happy. Lyle and Jehan were both in flower crowns, and Lyle was wearing his new teal sneakers.  Though the photos were obviously taken in times of great joy, they seemed to enrage Devin.  His face was a bright red, and his jaw flinched.  Suddenly he stood up.

            “That is not my kid!” he shouted.  “Not in those clothes!” the police officers on either side of him held him down to the bench.  “The faggot and his pet twink turned my son into a fairy!  Fuck you!” he screamed at Feuilly, the two officers struggling to restrain him. “The fuck are you booking me for abuse? That’s abuse!  That fucker is abusing my kid!” he screamed.

            “Feuilly, why is Lyle dressed in girls’ clothes?” the lawyer asked, standing again.

            “He likes them.” He replied truthfully.

            “ _He_ likes them, or Jean Prouvaire likes them?”

            “We let Lyle dress how he wants to.  He likes the stuff he wears.  He picks it out. He chooses his outfits every day.”

            “Perhaps now is a good time to bring Lyle and Jean Prouvaire in, your Honor.” Flora said with a smile.  The judge agreed, and a moment later, Jehan lead Lyle into the room by the hand. He hid behind Jehan, fearful of his father, who watched as his son sat down between Feuilly and Jehan. He was wearing a dusty pink poet sleeved top and a pair of dress kaki pants; and, of course, his aqua Chuck Taylors. He swung his feet under the bench, wringing his hands.  Jehan held Lyle against his side, rubbing his arm in an attempt to soothe him.

            “I would like to call Lyle up for questioning.” Devin’s lawyer said with a smile in the little boy’s direction.  Lyle’s eyes widened, and he leaned into Jehan.

            “Can I go up with him?” Jehan asked meekly.  He was terribly shy himself, and was also quite uncomfortable. The judge nodded.

            “Objection! Mr. Prouvaire could coach Lyle if he’s sitting with him.” The lawyer said harshly.

            “Overruled.” The judge replied.  “Jean Prouvaire, you may accompany Lyle to the stand.” Lyle smiled for a moment, standing up with Jehan and approaching the bench.  They were both sworn in and sat down.  Jehan held Lyle’s hand.

            “Lyle,” the lawyer began.  “Have you enjoyed your time with Mr. Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire?” Lyle nodded. “Please respond verbally.” The lawyer instructed.  Lyle looked to Jehan, confused.

            “It means talk, Baby.” He clarified.

            “Your Honor, this is coaching!  I can’t—” the lawyer attempted. 

            “Overruled.” The judge said again with a sort of glare at the lawyer.

            “Yes I like it with Jehan and Feuilly.” He said quietly, glancing at his father, who was fuming, still struggling against the officers.  Lyle recoiled into Jehan.

            “Have you missed your family at all?  Have you missed your father?”  Lyle stayed quiet, fearful.  He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to have to endure the wrath of his father either. “Lyle answer the question.”

            “No.” he whispered.  “I don’t miss him.”

            “Lyle!” his father barked.  “They fucking told him to say that!  I know they did!”

            “Have Mr. Feuilly or Jean Prouvaire told you what to do or say when you were here today?”

            “No…Well, they told me to tell the truth and say what I really thought, but they didn’t tell me anything else.” He replied.

            “I see.” The lawyer smiled artificially.  “I like your shirt.  Where did you get it?” he asked.

            “I don’t know what the store is, but Jehan bought it for me.”

            “Did you pick it out yourself?”

            “Mm hm.” He smiled.

            “Did Jehan help you pick it out?” he asked.

            “No. He was looking at other stuff…He told me to pick what I liked and that he would get it for me.”

            “I understand.  Lyle, could you tell me more about Jean Prouvaire?” he asked, glancing to Jehan briefly. Jehan sat quietly, letting Lyle answer the questions, proud of him for being so brave.

            “You can ask him if you’d like.  He won’t mind.” Lyle said, smiling up at Jehan briefly.  Jehan grinned.  The jury chuckled.

            “I’ll talk to him in a little while.  I’d like to ask you about him first, though.”

            “Okay.” He smiled.

            “Is Jean Prouvaire married?”

            “Mm hm.  Him and Feuilly are married. They showed me the pictures one time.” He smiled lightly, momentarily forgetting about his father, who was still fuming on his bench.  He had stopped struggling and was far too angry to say anything at all.  He just sat, boiling and bubbling, dangerously close to eruption, but not yet able to articulate his loathing.  He just watched quietly, though his mind was loud and screaming.

            “Do Jean Prouvaire and Feuilly like to give hugs and kisses?” he asked. Feuilly couldn’t see why that was important, but he didn’t protest.  He just sat, smiling up at Lyle when he glanced in his direction.

            “Sometimes…Not lots, though.  Only sometimes, like if we’re watching a movie, sometimes Jehan sort of leans on Feuilly like this.” He demonstrated, leaning against Jehan, who blushed, smiling meekly. He didn’t think his relationship status and affectionate behaviors would be brought up.

            “Do they sleep in the same bed?” he asked.

            “Your honor, could the defense please explain what relevance these questions have to the case?” Flora asked, standing.

            “I’ll permit that.  What are the reasons for these questions?”

            “It is important to understand if Lyle has been exposed to any inappropriate behaviors Jean Prouvaire and Feuilly may have taken part in.” he explained. The judge nodded, but seemed unconvinced.  He continued.

            “Lyle, do Jean Prouvaire and Feuilly give you your medicine every day?”

            “Mm hm.” Lyle nodded.

            “Do they make you get a shower every day?”

            “Most days.  Sometimes if it’s Friday I skip a shower.” He admitted sheepishly. 

            “Do you feel that they are abusive to you in any way?”

            “No. They’re nice.” He smiled. Jehan looped his arm over Lyle’s shoulders and gave him a little hug.

—o0o—

 

After a few hours waiting around the courthouse, Feuilly, Jehan, and Lyle were called back into the courtroom, along with Lyle’s father, his lawyer, and Flora.

            “What are we doing now?” Lyle asked Feuilly as they sat down on their benches again.

            “They’re going to decide if you get to stay with us or not.” He explained.

            “What if I don’t get to stay with you?” he asked, his eyes tearing up.

            “No matter what happens, everything will be okay.  I promise.”  Feuilly replied with a smile, though his thoughts were far more sinister.  If Lyle was destined by the court to go back with his father, Feuilly would make sure Lyle didn’t have to stay with him for long—even if that meant eliminating Devin.  Feuilly would gladly face prison if it meant Lyle would be safe, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

            The jury filed into the room, one of them standing in front of the judge with a sheet of paper.

            “We have unanimously decided that it would be in the best interest of Lyle and Devin—” Jehan began tear up, fearful. “if Lyle stayed with Feuilly and Jean Prouvaire.” The woman smiled, as did the judge.  Feuilly wrapped both Jehan and Lyle in a massive hug and just held them there.

 

—o0o—

 

            “I’m happy I get to stay with you now.” Lyle said between spoonfulls of softserve with sprinkles.

            “We are too, Lovely!” Jehan replied, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry we had to go through all of that, though…That was really scary, huh?”

            “It was scary…I was scared my dad would get mad and come get me…”

            “He’ll never bother you ever again, Lyle.  Never ever.” Feuilly assured him, sucking on his peanut butter cup ice cream. Lyle smiled.

            “Um…Jehan?” Lyle cooed after a moment of quiet.

            “Yes, Lovely?”

            “Could…could I call you Daddy now, then?”  Jehan smiled.

            “Yes! Yes of course you can!”

            “Can I be Vader?” Feuilly asked.  Jehan raised an eyebrow.

            “What?”

            “Vader. It’s Afrikaans for Father. It is also Star Wars for Father.”

            “It’s also terrifying.” Jehan said with a chuckle.  “What about Papa?”

            “Nah. René calls Enjolras and Grantaire Daddy and Papa.”

            “You could just call him dad, if you’d like.” Jehan suggested.  Lyle nodded.

            “Daddy, Dad, and Lyle.” He cooed, snuggling up against Jehan.

            “I think that sounds quite nice, don’t you?” Jehan smiled, rubbing at Lyle’s hair, messing it all up.

            “Doesn’t sound as nice as Vader, but it’ll do.” Feuilly replied, giving Lyle a wink.  He laughed.

 

 

 

 

 

~I don't know if this is finished yet or not...  
  
Anyone have ideas?  I was thinking of skipping a bit and going to when Lyle has grown up a bit...not sure!  
Thank you for reading! <3


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next summer, just after Lyle turned 11, Jehan finally fulfilled a dream he had since childhood: he purchased a small storefront on main street, and opened a little flower shop: Lovely Flowers. 

            Every day, he, Lyle, and Feuilly would head to the shop, prop the doors open, and get to work making everything from bouquets to flower crowns to corsages and everything in between.   Jehan also had a greenhouse added on to the back of the building. That’s where Lyle spent most of his time. He loved the plants, and he loved to watch them grow.  He had taken quite a liking to pollinating them himself, cross breeding them, seeing what sorts of colors he could come up with.  Soon, he realized that he could not only change the colors of single plant varieties, but that he could also cross species.  This created beautiful flowers and leaves, all of them different, all of them beautiful.  In fact, Lyle put Lovely Flowers on the map.  They were the only flower shop in town to sell Lyle’s complicated, delicate, beautiful mix-breeds of flowers.

            Lyle was hard at work in the greenhouse, creating wonderfully accurate pencil drawings of his latest flower, when Jehan nocked in the glass door. Lyle jumped, but smiled shortly, and waved him inside.

            “I’m sorry, Lovely, I didn’t mean to scare you.” he said, sitting down next to Lyle at the small table and studying the little sprout that had just poked through the soil of Lyle’s little cup of dirt.  It was labeled ‘Purple Test Pea’

            “That’s okay.” He said, continuing his drawing of the little leaves.

            “What is this one, then?” he asked, admiring the pale green shoots and rounded leaves.

            “It’s just a pea plant, but the plant I got the seeds from had purple flowers instead of yellow, so I planted it again to see if I could make more.” He explained with a smile.  “I don’t think it worked…The leaves are a little lighter though…They’re sort of a different color than this one.” He pulled another small cup of soil from his stock; this one was labeled ‘pea #1’, and was his control.

            “Yes it is a different color.” Jehan agreed.  “How exciting!  Have you grown more of those purple roses?  Someone’s ordered a bouquet.” He asked.  Lyle nodded and pointed to a large rose bush in the corner, covered in indigo flowers. He had discovered that breeding white roses in just the right way would yield pale purple, and that breeding those purple varieties would create a bright violet.  Now he was working on making them striped, but it was proving a bit difficult.  There were many pots of failed attempts sitting around, most of them plain white or pale pink—nothing unusual.  Jehan made them into arrangements anyhow, though.  He couldn’t stand to see any flowers go to waste. 

            “There was a really good blue one around the top.  If you use it, let me take the pollen first please.” Lyle requested.  He smiled.

            “Of course.” Jehan promised.  “I’ll leave it for you.  I’ll use the others first, Lovely.” He grinned, running his hand through Lyle’s plain brown hair. It was getting long, and today, Lyle had it pulled back into two short little braids, each one tied with a yellow ribbon around the elastics.  Jehan went to the bush of purple roses and cut thirteen, carefully pulling off the thorns as he headed back through the greenhouse.  Jehan always gave customers an extra rose. Though he charged by the dozen, as most florists did, he always gave thirteen.  ‘Everyone needs more flowers in their life!’ he would say when people asked. 

            “When are they coming for the roses?” Lyle asked.

            “Soon, I think.” Jehan replied with a smile, picking blooms as he walked through the greenhouse, winding them into his reddish braid.

            “Can I give the flowers to them?” he asked.

            “Sure!” Jehan agreed with a smile.  “Come on out into the shop.  They should be here any minute.” Jehan liked cutting flowers at the very last moment. He wanted them to live as long as possible before moving on to the next stages of their flower-lives. Cutting flowers always made him sad, but he always told himself that they were only moving on to fulfill their duties. They would make someone else’s life beautiful, and that’s what they were for. 

Lyle, too, became sad when he had to cut flowers, or when he realized that one of his experiments had yielded nothing but a small dying plant.  He always held a respectful burial for his failed attempts, and put them into the compost pile.  He believed that being kind to the plants, even when they were dying, made them happy, and that his kindness would move from the dying plants into the soil, and from the soil into the new plants.  It made Lyle glad when his plants grew, and he just knew it was from his compost, so filled with good will and love. 

“Daddy could I have one in my hair?” Lyle asked, standing and following Jehan out into the shop.

“Of course you can! The yellow Primroses will match your hairbows.”

“And my shorts!” Lyle added. He was wearing a pair of bright yellow seersucker short pants along with his plain white tee shirt. Over everything, he wore his pink apron to keep the dirt off.

Jehan tucked the primroses into Lyle’s braids just as the door to the shop opened, the little bell ringing as it swung.  An older man walked in, probably in his early sixties, and approached the counter.

“Good morning, Lovely! How have you been?” Jehan asked. The man smiled. Though the shop had only been open about two weeks, he was already a regular customer, and came in almost every other day to get flowers for his wife.

“Hello Jehan. I’ve been well, than you. I’m here for those purple roses!”

“Here they are!” Lyle said, handing the bouquet to the man, a bright yellow ribbon tied around the stems.

“Wow! These are beautiful! You know, you’re the only place in town with real purple roses?  Everyone else just dyes the white ones.” He said, inspecting the blooms, pleased with his bouquet.

“Lyle breeds all of our flowers.” Jehan said with a grin towards Lyle, who blushed. “He can make almost any color you want!”

“Except green. I didn’t get that right yet…” He admitted.  The man chuckled.

“I’m sure my wife will be very happy with these!  Thank you both! Have a nice day!” he said, leaving the money on the counter and leaving.  “Keep the change!” he added from the door.

“Daddy he left €80. They only cost €50.” Lyle said to Jehan, who put the  €50 into the cash register along with the receipt.  He handed the other €30 to Lyle with a smile.  Lyle was puzzled.

“Should I give it back?” he asked, looking to the door.  He was sure he could catch the old man if he ran…

“No. He said to keep it. So keep it.” Jehan smiled.

“You keep it. They’re your flowers.”

“But you grew them for me.” He gave Lyle a hug.  “You earned it. Keep it.”

“Thanks.” Lyle smiled, missing one of his premolars—one of his last baby teeth.

“You are most welcome, Lovely. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He smiled, heading back into the greenhouse to continue tending his plants. Jehan watched him fondly.

He had been living with them for just over six months, but had grown nearly five inches. He was the same height as Jehan, and though Jehan was small for a young man, Lyle was tall for a sixth grader. He would be very tall and handsome as an adult, but in his current stage of growth, he looked like a young, spindly tree.  His legs and arms were far too long, and his hands and feet were much too big.  He was very thin.  The doctor said his waifishness was likely caused by malnutrition as a young child. Lyle later stated that his father often ‘forgot’ to feed him, and that sometimes, he would go for as long as three days without eating anything.  Jehan and Feuilly kept him on a strict diet of about 3,500 calories per day in an effort to get him up to a normal weight.  At five foot, two inches and only 80 pounds, Lyle was at only the 2nd percentile for children of his age and unusually tall height.

Jehan sat at the counter on his stool and carefully strung baby’s breath and white roses onto a circlet. He had already attached a small veil of sheer silk to the back, along with a few thin pink ribbons. It was for a flower girl who would be marching down the isle in her aunt’s wedding, and he wanted it to be perfect.  Since business was slow on that particular afternoon, he also bent wire into wing shapes and covered them in white nylon stockings, making a pair of butterfly wings for the little girl as well.  He had completely covered them in glittery swirls, and they looked beautiful.  He hoped she would come when her mother came to pick up her tiara later that day.  He wanted to see her reaction to the wings.

He had just finished sewing the final rose to the crown when the door swung open, the bell jingling happily.  Jehan smiled as a woman with a little girl came into the shop to pick up her tiara.

“Hello! You’re here for your tiara, right?” he asked the little girl with a smile.  Lyle peeked around the greenhouse door, just behind the front desk. He liked talking to customers. The little girl nodded.

“She’s going to be the flower girl for her aunt’s wedding, aren’t you, Katarina?” the mother asked. Katarina nodded and smiled, her china-fair cheeks flushing posy pink.  Lyle giggled quietly, covering his mouth with his hand.  The little girl was hardly tall enough to reach the counter, and only her bobbing blonde curls were visible to Lyle.  He crept from the greenhouse door where he had been watching, and climbed up onto the stool behind the counter, kneeling on top of it and putting his elbows on the countertop, his chin rested in his hands.

“I always wanted to be in a wedding.” He cooed, admiring the little girl’s tiara as Jehan handed it to her mother.  Jehan smiled and straightened one of the yellow flowers in Lyle’s hair.

“Oh I almost forgot!” Jehan said, turning around and grabbing the wings he had made, hurrying out from behind the counter and slipping the elastics around Katarina’s little arms. She smiled broadly, looking up at her mother with big, brown eyes.

“Look at you! My little princess!” she said. “Thank you so much! Katarina, what do you say?” she prompted.

“Thank you!” she cooed, spinning around, her head turned as far as it would go, trying to get a good look at her wings.  Jehan chuckled and took two pictures on his instant polaroid, handing one to the woman, and keeping the other beside the register to hang on their bulletin board later.

“I’m glad you like them! Have a nice time at your aunt’s wedding!” Jehan smiled.

“Yup!” the little girl replied, still smiling.  Her mother reached for her bag.

“The flowers are already paid for.” Jehan said.

“This is for the wings. How much?” she asked with a smile.

“They’re a ‘you’re a lovely flower girl’ gift.” He replied.  She and the little girl left the shop, waving as they went.

“I wish I could be in a wedding.” Lyle mused, closing his eyes, imagining it: walking down the isle, scattering flower petals, carrying the rings. 

“Maybe you can be. Lots of our friends aren’t married. Maybe one day you could be in their weddings.” Jehan smiled, standing beside the stool, supporting his head on his hands, mirroring Lyle.

“They wouldn’t want me to be _in_ the wedding though…René would be the ring bearer and someone else would be the flower girl…”

“Why couldn’t you be the flower girl?  It doesn’t really _have_ to be a girl.” Lyle shrugged.

“Maybe.” He smiled. “Could I help you make crowns? We have to make them for that Girl Scout troop, right?”  Jehan nodded, retrieving more wire hoops to attach the flowers to.  Lyle retrieved the ribbon spools and began wrapping the wire, tying bows with the extra and letting the ends hang down the back.

“Should we make them match, or should they all be different?” Jehan asked, looking into the refrigerator filled with already-cut flowers he kept behind the counter.

“I think they should all be different…But I don’t think they should be really bright or anything…maybe nice sort of pastel-y colors.” Lyle suggested.

“I like that idea. Mixed, though, I think. Like, different colors on the same tiara.”  Lyle nodded in agreement, opening the refrigerator and taking out the cut flowers. Jehan never cut more than he would need, so as not to waste any of the blooms.  It wasn’t the most time-effective method, but Jehan said it kept the flowers happy.

“I like these ones.” Lyle said, spinning one of the blooms in his hand.  It was a stem of pale pink freesia flowers.

“I like the Asters.” Jehan said, picking through the stems, choosing his favorites and sewing them gently onto the crowns. “The Brunneras are nice as space fillers, too. They’re so small and sweet!” he added, handing Lyle a bundle of the small blue flowers. Lyle smiled.

“Can I use the gladiolus’, or are those for the wedding?” he asked.  Gladiolus’ were one of Lyle’s favorite flowers. He loved their feathery petals and the way they grew in pale green stalks.

“They’re a little hard to put onto crowns…They don’t have much of a stem to sew them on with…Let’s save them for the wedding centerpieces, alright?”

“Okay.” Lyle placed the stems back into the refrigerator.  “I bet you could just bend a stalk of gladiolus’ and make a crown like that.” He smiled.

“I’ve never done that!” Jehan admitted.  “Give it a try! There are nice big pink ones in there.” Lyle grinned and retrieved a stalk, bending it carefully, slowly, until it made a hoop.  He tied it with a ribbon and placed it gently on his head, smiling when it stayed put.  Jehan took a picture with his instant polaroid, showing Lyle the picture that slipped from the front of the camera.  Lyle looked at it fondly for a moment before walking out from around the counter and pinning it to the massive bulletin board near the door.  He used a ladybug tack, today.  The last picture they had taken was hanging from a butterfly tack. They had a whole multitude of tacks, all of them with different insects. Courfeyrac had given them to Jehan as a shop-warming gift.  They made a habit of taking pictures of the customers, and their board was filling up quickly. Lyle quickly returned to the counter and took the picture of the little girl, tacking that up as well, this time with a dragonfly tack.  Their wings matched.

“Oh Lyle that’s lovely!” Jehan said, finishing up his first tiara, adding just a sprig of lily of the valley flowers to the bow.  Lyle smiled and began sewing Oenothera flowers to his wire loop. Jehan taught him just the right way to string flowers so that they would stay put on the loop. Flower crowns were a specialty of the shop, and they sold many of them, so Lyle always had a chance to practice.

            Lyle and Jehan both looked up when the bell on the door rang again. Jehan smiled, realizing that the man pushing the door open with his back was Feuilly, a paper bag from Mr. Valjean’s restaurant in his arms.

            “Hello, Dearest!” Jehan cooed from behind the counter.  Lyle smiled.  He loved how Jehan called Feuilly ‘dearest’.  He thought that was so kind and sweet.  He hoped that some day someone would speak to him as lovingly as Jehan spoke to Feuilly.

            “Hey Baby Doll.” He replied, placing the bag of sandwiches down on the counter, leaning over and giving Jehan a quick kiss on the nose.  “Hey, Kiddo.” He added with a smile in Lyle’s direction. “I’d give you a kiss too, but that’d be sort of weird.” He grinned.  Lyle laughed.  “I like your crown.” He said to Lyle, pulling up the stool on the customer side of the long counter and sitting down across from Jehan.  He took the sandwiches out of the brown paper bag, handing the wax-paper-wrapped bundles to Lyle and Jehan in turn.

            “They’re gladiolus flowers.” Lyle replied.

            “Very cool.  Are these the Girl Scout crowns?” he asked, inspecting the crown Lyle had just finished. He smiled approvingly.

            “Mm hm.” Lyle replied.  “But I made this one too big.” He admitted.  “You have it.” He placed it onto Feuilly’s head.  He smiled.

            “Thanks, Kiddo.” He replied.  Jehan smiled sweetly and ran his hand through Feuilly’s hair, straightening his crown

            “Did Leon come in for his roses already?” Feuilly asked referring to the old man who had picked up the bouquet of purple roses earlier.

            “He did.” Jehan replied, pulling pieces off his sandwich and eating them carefully. Everything Jehan did was delicate and precise, even something as simple as eating a sandwich.

            “He left extra money and Daddy let me keep it.” Lyle added with a broad smile.

            “That was nice of him.” Feuilly said, fixing one of the flowers in Lyle’s hair. Lyle nodded, eating his own sandwich.

            “Want to help us make tiaras?” Jehan asked, handing Feuilly a hoop. He nodded.

            “I’ll try my best.  You might have to fix it, though.” He said with a smile.

            “I’m sure you’ll do a good job.” Lyle assured him.

            “Thanks, Kiddo.” He replied, giving Lyle a loving tap on the nose.


	6. Chapter 6

trigger warning for vomiting.  it's just a little part, so I'll put a bunch of *********** at the beginning of the sentence :)

 

 

Up until lunch time, the day had been rather uneventful.  It was a Friday, and the flower shop was closed for the day, so Lyle and Jehan made lunch while Feuilly worked at the mechanic’s garage.

            The two sat at the kitchen table sharing apple slices and peanut butter sandwiches with honey from the local farm Lyle had taken to working at. Mr. Duchamp, Courfeyrac’s grandfather, owned the land just outside the city, and let Lyle help with the smaller animals and fruit-picking on the weekends.  In return, Lyle would get honey from the bees, whichever fruit was in season, or the man would take him for ice cream once he was finished helping.

            Lyle had been telling Jehan about what he would be doing the coming Saturday, helping Mr. Duchamp with the lambs that had been born the weekend before.

            “He told me he’d let me feed them!  They’ll be so cute and fluffy.” He cooed.  Jehan smiled. 

            “What about the ducklings?” Jehan inquired.

            “Oh I love the little ducklings.  They’re so bright and yellow.  They follow their mommy everywhere, and they try to stand on the lilies in the pond.” Jehan chuckled. “They make such sweet little squeaking noises.” He laughed.

            “I’m so happy you like it there, Lyle.” Jehan smiled.  At just that moment, there was a knock on the door. Lyle jumped, his eyes wide.

            “Who is it?” Lyle asked quietly, frightened.  He always became nervous when there was an unexpected visitor.

            “I’m not sure, Baby, but everything will be alright.” Jehan assured him, standing and peeking around the door.  “Oh hello, Ms. Belrose!” he said with a smile, holding the door for the woman—Lyle’s social worker. “What a lovely surprise!” Lyle relaxed considerably. He knew the woman well, and she dropped by occasionally, just to see how Lyle was doing.

            “Hello Mr. Prouvaire.  Hello, Lyle!” she smiled.

            “Please come in!  Sit down! Would you like a cup of tea, or…” he offered, pulling out the chair next to Lyle at the table for her to sit down.

            “A glass of water would be wonderful, thank you.” she took the seat and smiled.

            “Would you like anything else?  We were just having lunch, but please, help yourself.”

            “I’m alright, thank you.  Please sit, though, I needed to speak with you.  Is your husband here?” she asked.

            “He’s working right now…But I could call him, if you’d like. He can be home in a few minutes.” He offered.

            “That isn’t necessary.” She smiled.  “I really just need to speak with Lyle, actually.”

            “Would you like me to leave?” Jehan offered.  Lyle looked to him, fearful.  He was terribly attached to Jehan, and didn’t want to be left alone, even if it was with a woman he knew.  Ms. Belrose seemed to notice his distress, but nodded to Jehan.

            “I’m sorry, Lyle, I just have to ask you a few questions.” She said. Lyle nodded, playing with one of his stubby pigtails.  Jehan had French-braided his short hair, tying off the ends with a ribbon and a flower. He twirled the bloom around in his fingers.

            “I’ll be right upstairs, Lyle.  I promise.” Jehan smiled, taking Lyle’s hand lovingly for just a moment as he stood and left.

            “Lyle,” she began as the French doors to the kitchen closed. She looked to the little boy, opening her leather binder and leafing through the paperwork. “You’re been living with the Prouvaire’s for almost eight months, now.  How do you think things are going?”

            “Really good.” He smiled meekly.

            “Some of these questions are going to sound a little silly, but I have to ask them. Is that alright with you?” she asked.  Lyle nodded again.  “Alright.” She pulled out a pen and a packet of paper, turning the pages. “What were you having for lunch?” she asked, inspecting the ceramic dish in front of Lyle.  He poked at the bread on his sandwich.

            “Peanut butter honey sandwiches.” He replied.  “And apples.”

            “And what’s in your glass?  Cola?”

            “No it’s grape juice.” He giggled.  “Jehan and Feuilly only have organic stuff…so no soda.” Lyle clarified.

            “Do you miss having soda?” she asked with a little smile. Lyle shook his head.

            “No. Sometimes I have it if we go out for dinner.  Like a treat.”

            “That’s good.” She scribbled something down in her binder. “And Lyle, have you made any friends since you’ve been here?  I know Jehan is going to school you at home this year, but do you have many friends?” she asked. Lyle felt his face become hot. He hadn’t really made many friends, besides René, but he was only a baby.  He worried he would be taken away from Jehan and Feuilly if he answered incorrectly. He felt tears well behind his eyes.

            “Don’t cry, Lyle.” She said, handing him a napkin from the center of the table. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. It’s alright if you haven’t met anyone yet.” She explained.

            “Will I get taken away from Jehan and Feuilly?” he asked quietly, wiping his tears on the back of his hand.

            “Oh no.  They’ve adopted you. I can’t take you away from them.” She smiled.  “Unless you feel like you need to be somewhere else.”

            “No please let me stay here.  I want to stay here.” He said.

            “Then you’ll be staying here.” She smiled.  “I guess you haven’t made any friends, then?” she asked.

            “Well…sort of…Dad and Daddy have friends they introduced me to, but they’re all grown ups…There’s René, too, but he’s only five.  He’s one of Daddy’s friends’ son.”

            “Oh I see.” She wrote something down on her pad.  “How many times do you eat a day, Lyle?” she asked next.

            “Well, we have breakfast and lunch and dinner, but I can have snacks if I want to.” He explained.

            “Good. Do you take a shower every night?” she asked.

            “Most nights.  Sometimes I skip one, though, if it’s Friday or I didn’t go any place that day.” He admitted.

            “Perfect.” She wrote his answer on her notepad.  “And do you spend more time with Jean Prouvaire, or Feuilly?”

            “Um…I don’t know.  Jehan, I guess. He stays home with me and Feuilly goes to work, but sometimes we’re all at the flower shop, and we all eat dinner together and do stuff together at night and on the weekend.” He explained. “Sometimes just me and Feuilly do things too, though.”

            “Do you enjoy your time with Feuilly?  I know you were a little nervous around him at first.”

            “Yup we have fun.” He smiled.  “Me and Feuilly go to see outside concerts together when they have them in the park. But before that we go to dinner first, just me and him.  He says it’s a date.” He giggled.  Ms. Duchamp smiled.

            “That sounds like a lot of fun, Lyle.  I’m so glad you’re happy here.  I have one more question for you.”

            “Okay.” Lyle cooed.

            “Your father asked me if he would be able to see you.  Do you think you would like to see him, if Jean Prouvaire and Feuilly and I all came with you?”  Lyle seemed to recoil.

            “You would all be there the whole time?”

            “Yes. We would all be there, and he wouldn’t be allowed to do anything you don’t want him to do. He’d have to stay in a special room and talk to you on a phone.  Do you think that would be a good idea?” she asked.  Lyle shrugged.  “It’s okay if you don’t want to.  It’s totally up to you. Don’t feel badly if you decide you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

            “Jehan and Feuilly can come?”

            “Yes they most certainly can.”

            “Okay.” He said after a long moment.  “It might be good.  Maybe I won’t be so scared after that…”

            “You’re very brave to go, Lyle.  I think it would be good for you to see him.  Facing your fears is the best way to move past them!”  Lyle smiled meekly.  “Would you do me a favor and get me Jean Prouvaire?  I need to talk to him, now.”

            “Okay.” Lyle scurried from the room, returning a moment later with Jehan.

            “Hello, Mr. Prouvaire!  I just wanted to make you aware of what Lyle and I have decided.”

            “Alright.” Jehan smiled, though he was slightly worried.  Decision on what?  He was unaware there was a decision that needed to be made.

            “Lyle and I have both agreed that it would be a good idea for him to see his father as an exercise to help him with his anxieties.”

            “Oh. Alright.  If Lyle wants to.  Would Feuilly and I be allowed to come with him?” he asked.

            “Most certainly.” She replied.

            “Alright. Just tell us when and where.” He smiled, holding Lyle and rocking him back and forth, his chin on his shoulder. Lyle was just about as tall as Jehan.

            “I’ll call you later today with more information.  I’ll see you soon!” she smiled.  Jehan and Lyle walked her to the door.

 

—o0o—

 

            “Now Lyle, if for any reason you want to end the visit with your father, you just say so.” Ms. Duchamp instructed as they sat in the visitor’s area of the prison Lyle’s father was living in. 

            “Okay.” Lyle said with a nod.  He leaned into Feuilly’s side, and the man rubbed at his arm, giving him a sort of side-hug.  Jehan held Lyle’s hand.

            “He’s going to come in now, alright?  He’s going to be sitting on the other side of that window, and he’ll be able to talk to you through that phone on the wall, okay?”

            “Yup.” Lyle said.  He, Jehan, and Feuilly walked over to the little booth, and Lyle held the phone, his hands shaking visibly. Jehan took his hands around the phone and steadied him gently.  The little boy stiffened immediately when his father sat at the window across from him. Ms. Duchamp left the room.

            The man looked nothing like he had in court months before. Then, he had been at least somewhat clean and put together.  Now he was haggard, unshaven, his hair a greying mess.  He only managed to look at Lyle for a second before looking away, speaking quietly into the phone.

            “Hey Lyle.” He said, his voice raspy.  He wasn’t sure, but Feuilly thought he saw a bruise across the man’s nose.

            “Hi.” Lyle replied meekly, shaking terribly, near tears.

            “We can go if you want to, Lyle.” Jehan whispered.  Lyle shook his head.

            “You doing okay?” Lyle’s father asked, seeming more sad and tired than angry, how he had been in court. 

            “Yup.” Lyle replied.

            “Good. These guys treating you okay?” he asked, looking to Jehan and Feuilly.  Jehan gave a little wave.  Feuilly only looked at him, his eyes stony, his expression cold.

            “Yes.” Lyle said quietly.

            “You’ve grown.  You’re tall.”

            “Yup.” Lyle only seemed able to produce single word answers. It worried Jehan, and he took the little boy’s hand in his own, holding it tightly.  The father passed Jehan a dirty sort of look, and Jehan recoiled slightly, but he never let go of Lyle’s hand.

            “Thanks for coming.  I’ve missed you.” Lyle shrugged. “Guess you’re happier with them than you were with me.”  Again, Lyle had no answer.  He didn’t want to hurt his father.  No matter how many times the man had hurt Lyle, the boy couldn’t bring himself down to his level. He couldn’t hurt the man who had tortured him for his entire life.  It made him feel weak.  He knew he should _want_ to take his revenge. He knew that’s what anyone else would have wanted to do, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hate his father. 

            “How long do you have to stay here?” Lyle asked quietly, curious for his own sake, not so much his father’s. 

            “A while.” The man replied.  “Five years.” Lyle nodded.  “After that I’m not allowed to see you…or any kid. I have to register as a sex offender.” Lyle flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping the phone on the table with a clatter.  Jehan immediately took Lyle in his arms and held him in a hug.  Lyle began to sob.

            “Do you really have to hug my kid in front of me?” his father asked harshly through the phone as it sat on the counter.  Feuilly picked up the receiver.

            “He’s not your kid.  He’s my kid. And if you had been a better father to him, we wouldn’t have to hold him like this.  The poor kid can’t even hear the word ‘sex’ without having a panic attack, you fucker.” Feuilly growled into the phone.

            “Don’t talk to me like that!”

            “I’ll talk to you however I want to.” Feuilly continued, remaining deadly calm, though a fire blazed in his eyes.  “I see your black eye.  Did the other inmates beat the shit out of you when they heard what you did?” The man looked away, his face red, and Feuilly nodded.  “Thought so. Murder isn’t as bad as what you did to that kid.  We’re taking Lyle home now.” He hung up the phone, leaving Lyle’s father red-faced and embarrassed at the window.  Feuilly took Lyle from Jehan’s embrace and picked him up, carrying him out of the visitor’s room. Ms. Duchamp stood up the moment they entered the lobby, concern evident in her eyes.

            “It didn’t go over well, I presume.” She said.

            “It was fine at first.  A trigger word just set him off…” Feuilly explained, holding Lyle in his arms tightly, trying to stop him from shaking so profusely. 

            “I think we just need to go home.” Jehan said with a meek smile, reaching up and rubbing Lyle’s back.

            “I’m sorry about this.” Ms. Duchamp said. “I thought it might be good for him.”

            “It’s alright, Lovely.” Jehan said.  “Lyle decided on his own that he wanted to come, and he was brave, and he did a very good job,” he turned his attention to Lyle, “but it was still scary, and now we need to go home and have those cupcakes we made this morning.” Jehan said, smiling up at him as he held tight to Feuilly.  Ms. Duchamp smiled.

            “You take him home, then.  If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

            “Thank you so much!” Jehan said, shaking her hand with a warm smile.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle didn’t stop shaking and sobbing the entire way home.  Jehan sat with him in the back seat of the car, holding him tight as he continued to panic. **********Feuilly had to pull the car over at one point for Lyle, and sit with him on the side of the road for him to vomit.*********** He continued to shake, even as he fell asleep in Jehan’s lap, completely exhausted from the exertion of his panic attack.

            Feuilly carried him inside and laid him down on the sofa, covering up his skinny form with a thin cotton blanket and letting him sleep. Jehan never left him, and sat rubbing his back as he slept. 

            Feuilly and Jehan were waiting by his side when he woke up a bit later. Jehan handed him a cupcake on a china dish with a smile.  Lyle took it gratefully.

            “You were so brave today, my Little Love.” Jehan said softly. Lyle scooped the frosting off the cupcake with his finger, taking little nibbles of it now and again.  His stomach was still a bit upset, but he couldn’t turn down a cupcake.

            “Yeah. You did great.” Feuilly added with a grin.

            “Sorry I got so scared…I didn’t—”

            “Oh Lyle not to worry.” Jehan smiled.  “I was scared too, and he didn’t even talk to me!” he admitted with a giggle. Lyle dabbed a bit of frosting onto Jehan’s nose and laughed.  Jehan wiped it off with his finger and gave it a taste.  “You make very good frosting, Lyle.” He said.  Feuilly laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

Feuilly walked in the front door, seeming a bit worn out from his day at work.  He tossed his bag into the corner as Jehan approached him, giving him a hug.

            “I missed you, Darling.” He smiled.  Feuilly kissed Jehan’s hair before tossing             “Missed you too, Baby Doll.” Feuilly replied.  “Where’s Lyle?” he asked.

            “He’s out playing.  There were some kids playing whiffle ball and jumping rope and things…Lyle decided he wanted to go out and try to play with them.”  Feuilly smiled.

            “Good. I’m glad.”

            “So am I.  Maybe he’ll bring a friend home! Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

            “Yeah. He doesn’t really have too many friends, does he?”

            “He hasn’t really met anyone…I almost wish we had made him go to school…”

            “Nah. That would have been too much for him this year.  He would have been a nervous wreck.  Next year.”

            “You’re right.  I just worry for him so much.  I want him to have friends, and be happy and…normal, I guess…I don’t want him to linger on his father. Too much has happened to that little boy.  I want nothing more than for him to be content.”  Feuilly hugged Jehan tight

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle crept out into the street, watching from the end of the block as kids played out in the dewy springtime weather. A group of three younger girls played Jacks on the sidewalk.  Boys were riding skateboards and playing tag.  Some kids were jumping rope.  Everyone had ample energy to burn from the winter indoors.

            Lyle wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but he was determined to make at least one friend today.  He played with the sleeves on his thick pink sweater, the air still cold from winter’s lingering chill. He took a deep breath and approached a group of boys playing a game of cards.  Lyle knew how to play many card games.  Maybe they would let him join in.  Maybe he could teach them a new game…

            “Hi.” He said quietly, crouching down beside one of the four boys. They all looked up.

            “Hi.” One of them replied, his hair cropped short, his eyes bright blue. He did not smile, but eyed Lyle strangely, as if he were some sort of creature he had never seen before.

            “C—I mean…Could I play?” he asked.

            “We’re playing War.” One of the other boys replied.  He seemed a bit harsh, and Lyle recoiled into his sweater.

“I know now to play War.” Lyle said with a smile.

“War isn’t a girl game.” One of the other boys retorted. Lyle wasn’t sure what to do.  They thought he was a girl…It wasn’t that he minded.  Like Jehan, Lyle didn’t bother much with gender roles, and donned his too-big pink jumper and floral leggings with pride.  But how could he explain that to these boys?

            “I—I’m not a girl.” He said, playing with one of his pigtails nervously. His hair was straight and shoulder length, and most days, he wore it in stubby pigtails or braids.

            The boys looked him up and down again.

            “What?” a third boy asked.

            “No you are not.  Go play with the girls!”

            “D-do you guys know how to play rummy?” Lyle asked, naming one of his favorite card games. “Or ‘garbage’?” he asked, suggesting another game Feuilly had taught him.

            “No. _You’re_ garbage.  Go away. We’re playing.” The first boy said. Lyle stood up, pulling his hands inside his sleeves and crossing his arms dejectedly.  He decided to try the girls.  Maybe they would be more accepting.

            “Hello.” Lyle said with a smile, sitting down on the pavement next to two girls playing a game Lyle had never seen before.  They were twisting a piece of yarn between their fingers, passing it back and forth, making different shapes.

            “Hi!” One of the girls said with a bright smile.  The other girl smiled as well, but only for a moment before returning her attention to the string, placing her fingers between the other girl’s fingers and turning her hands over, catching the yarn and making a new shape like magic. 

            “What are you doing?” he asked, already feeling more welcome. He sat down all the way, crossing his legs and watching the string.

            “Oh it’s cat’s cradle.” The girl said, reaching up and tightening her ponytail. Her hair was blonde and curly. It reminded Lyle of Enjolras’ hair, and René.  He smiled.

            “How do you do it?” he asked.

            “It’s not so hard!  Watch!” she said as the other girl held up her hands, the string creating a series of crosses and lines. “You just have to sort of pinch the ‘x’s and then open up your fingers like this.” She demonstrated slowly.

            “You try now!” the other girl cooed, batting her short hair out of her face. Lyle attempted to take the ‘x’s in his hands, and he flipped his hands up, catching some of the strings, but not all, making a strange, uneven shape that looked nothing like the girl’s. He frowned.

            “I’m sorry.  I’ve messed it up.” He said. The girl with short dark hair giggled.

            “That’s okay!” the blonde girl said.  “Hand the yarn here.” She added.  Lyle handed her the yarn, and as if by magic, she had the ‘x’ shapes back to how they had been before.

            “Try again okay?” the girl with short hair said with a smile. Lyle tried again, this time catching all of the strings.  He smiled.

            “Yay you did it!” the girls both smiled.  Lyle held up the string shape to the girl, creating a new pattern.

            “Have I messed it up again?” Lyle asked.

            “No I’ll show you!” the blonde girl said.  “You have to take these strings here…” she took one of the sections of yarn from both sides, stretching them into little triangles with her pinkies. “Then you have to put the rest of your fingers underneath like this!” she demonstrated, but didn’t let the yarn catch her fingers.  Instead, she put the strings back.  “You do it, okay? That way you know how.” She smiled. Lyle managed on the first try, and he grinned.

            “This is fun!” he said.

            “It is! The boys say it’s silly, but it’s actually really fun.”  The blonde girl said. “My name is Maisie.” She smiled. “I moved here from America last year!” she announced.

            “I’m Jacqueline.” The other girl smiled.  “What are you called?”

            “Lyle.” He replied with a smile.

            “Lyle?” Maisie said, “But Lyle is a boy name.”  Lyle felt his face flush.

            “Lila.” He ‘corrected’.  “Lila, not Lyle.”

            “Oh sorry, I thought you said Lyle!” Maisie’s smile returned.

            “We’re having a sleep over tonight at my house!  Want to come over?” Jacqueline asked.  Lyle nodded.

            “I have to ask first, okay?”

            “Go ask right now!  We’ll start up another game of cats cradle!” Maisie said.

            “Okay!” Lyle stood up and hurried inside.

            Jehan was sitting in the living room, writing poetry in his notebook, when Lyle opened the door.   

            “Daddy?” he asked.  Jehan looked up with a smile.

            “Yes, Lovely?” he replied.

            “Could I sleep over a friend’s house tonight?”  Jehan’s smile widened.

            “Of course you can!  I’d like to meet their parents, though…if that’s alright with you.”  Lyle nodded and grinned. 

            “I’ll come back later to get bedtime things, and then you can come over, okay?”

            “Okay!” Jehan grinned, so pleased Lyle had managed to make a friend. The little boy hurried out of the house, returning to Jacqueline and Maisie.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle returned home at about 5:00 that evening, and Feuilly met him at the door, picking him up and spinning him around in a massive hug.

            “I’m so proud of you.” Feuilly grinned.  Lyle smiled, nearly forgetting about his lie: his name was not Lila, and he was not a girl…but Maisie and Jacqueline seemed to buy it, and he wanted to have at least one friend so badly, he tried his best to keep it from his mind. Perhaps nobody would notice.  Then we could tell them another time, after they had gotten to know each other…Maybe that would work…He kept telling himself it would work.

            “Are you ready for your sleepover, Baby?!” Jehan asked, coming down the stairs with Lyle’s floral duffle bag under his arm.  His pillow and stuffed puppy were shoved under the opposite arm.

            “Mm hm!” Lyle smiled.

            “Let’s go, then!  Show me where it is!” Feuilly held the door and followed Jehan and Lyle out of the house.  They all walked to Jacqueline’s house just a few doors down, and knocked on the door. A woman answered with a warm smile.

            “Oh hello!” she said, quite loudly, but kind, nonetheless.  “You’re here for the sleepover!  Jacqueline has told me all about you, sweetie! The girls are upstairs!” she pointed to the staircase, and Lyle took his bag and pillow from Jehan before hurrying up. Giggling ensued, and Jehan smiled.

            The woman shook Jehan and Feuilly’s hands, still smiling.  She was short—shorter than Jehan—and a bit stout, but she was very kind, and lead Jehan and Feuilly into the small kitchen, hoping to get to know them a bit better.

            “I’m Natalie Clare.” She introduced herself.  “Jacqueline’s mom.”         

            “Jehan Prouvaire.” He introduced himself.  “This is my husband, Feuilly.” He added quietly. 

            “Pleased to meet you two!  Aren’t you a cute couple!” she sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for Jehan and Feuilly to do the same.  “I left my husband years ago. Jacqueline doesn’t even know him. It’s a shame, but it’s probably better. He cheated on me! What a jerk, huh?” she babbled, her voice loud and thick.  Feuilly thought she was great and couldn’t help but smile. 

            “Oh I’m sorry about your husband, Lovely…” he said, taking her hands across the table.

            “Eh, it’s alright.  We’re happy here!” she laughed.  So did Feuilly. Jehan seemed a little taken aback. He was a quiet soul, and this woman was quite his opposite.  He smiled, anyway. Jehan loved everyone, regardless of how loud they were.  “How long have you two been together?  Your kid is how old?”

            “Oh how long has it been, Feuilly?” he asked, leaning against his shoulder. Feuilly thought for a moment.

            “Hm…seven years?  It’ll be seven June.”

            “But how old is your kid?”

            “12. We adopted!...obviously!” Jehan laughed lightly.  Natalie bowed her thick eyebrows.

            “Can’t have kids?” she asked.

            “Oh goodness…My given name is Jean.  Jean Prouvaire.” He explained with a little giggle and a blush. Feuilly laughed. Natalie turned a bright shade of red.

            “Good Lord I’m sorry!  You’re so petite and fair!  You could pass for a teenage girl!” she looked to Jehan.

            “It’s alright!  Everyone’s always thought I was a girl, I don’t mind!” he smiled.

            “How’s that working out, then?  Must be hard for two guys to raise a girl all on your own.  I guess the monthly Lady Time hasn’t come around yet? If you need any help, just call me, I’ll help you out!” she laughed.  Jehan glanced to Feuilly.

            “We don’t have a daughter…Just Lyle.” Jehan explained, frowning slightly. There had clearly been a misunderstanding.

            “Lyle?” Natalie said, “Jacqueline said her name was Lila.”

            “Oh no…” Jehan covered his mouth with his hand.  Feuilly sighed.  “She must have misheard…I’m so sorry—”

            “I’m not letting a boy sleep over with two girls.”

            “He won’t hurt anything—” Jehan tried to explain.

            “No. No, no I’m not letting a boy sleep over. I’m sorry.”

            “Oh please let him stay!” Jehan said desperately.  “He’s never been able to make friends before…He’s had such trouble. Please just let him stay the night. We’ll pick him up first thing in the morning—”

            “I’m sorry, that’s just…too weird.  I don’t trust a boy with two girls!  Not at that age!”

            “What do you think he’s going to do?” Feuilly finally said. He had been quiet thus far.

            “You know what’s on a boy’s mind when he’s 12?  Sex.” She said very matter-of-fact-ly.  Jehan looked like he might cry.

            “Come on, Natalie…” Feuilly said, “Let him stay.  Please.  The kid was abused the first ten years of his life.  He has no friends.  He’s awkward, he likes dressing like a girl, he gets made fun of everywhere…This would make him so happy. He never has to sleep over again. Don’t crush him now…He’s so excited.” Natalie was quiet for a while, thinking before shaking her head.

            “I’m sorry.  I can’t.” Feuilly nodded.

            “Kay. We understand.” He smiled slightly, almost sadly.

            “I am sorry.”

            “It’s alright, Lovely.  We just want Lyle to be happy…The poor thing had such a terrible time with his father…”

            “Can I ask what happened?  I mean, you don’t have to say—”

            “Oh it’s alright…Just don’t talk to him about it, it makes him upset. His father…he…” Jehan looked to Feuilly, unsure how much to say or how to explain.

            “Every sort of abuse you can think of, that kid went through.” He said simply. Natalie looked down.

            “That’s disgusting.  I’m so sorry, that poor little boy.”

            “He’s alright.  He’s been doing so well.” Jehan smiled.  “He’s just had trouble making friends…”

            “He can stay till they go to bed, if that’d be better.” Natalie suggested.

            “Oh could he?  That would be wonderful!” Jehan smiled.

            “Yeah. Come pick him up at 11:00. They can play again tomorrow.” Natalie smiled.

            “Thank you so much!  He’ll be so happy!”

            “I’ll go call him down to say goodbye.” Natalie stood and called up the stairs. “Lyle!” he hurried down. 

            “Hey Baby.” Jehan said, giving him a hug.  “Listen, Lovely.  We were talking with Ms. Claire, and we decided it would be a better idea if you just stayed until late tonight, then came home to go to bed.  Would that be alright?”  Lyle nodded. “The girls thought your name was Lila! What a funny little misunderstanding, huh?” Jehan smiled.  Lyle shrugged, his smile vanishing.  Jehan looked concerned. “Are you alright, Baby?” he asked. Lyle shook his head and began to cry, placing his face against Jehan’s shoulder.  “Lyle, what’s wrong?”

            “I told them that.” He said.

            “Told them what?”

            “I told them my name was Lila because I didn’t want them to make fun of me like the boys did.”  Jehan suddenly realized what happened.  The girls thought Lyle was a girl because he told them he was.  Jehan sighed.

            “Oh Baby I’m sorry…”

            “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied…I just wanted them to like me.”

            “I know, Baby…I know.  It’s alright.”

            “They won’t like me anymore if I tell them.”

            “Well…we have to tell them the truth.”  Lyle shook his head.

            “Just explain to them what happened.  I’m sure they’ll be understanding!”

            “No they won’t.  They’ll tell me to leave how the boys did.”  Jehan held Lyle close, rubbing his back soothingly and kissing his hair. Feuilly put a hand on Lyle’s shoulder and he looked up.

            “You still want to stay, Bud?” he asked.  Lyle shrugged.

            “It’s alright if you don’t.  We can try again another time.” Jehan said with a smile.  Lyle nodded, sniffling.  Natalie came over to investigate Lyle’s tearfulness.

            “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” she asked.  “It’s alright.  There was just a little misunderstanding.  It wasn’t your fault!” Lyle seemed to retract into Jehan at her booming voice, though she was trying to offer comfort. Feuilly quietly took the woman aside and explained what had really happened; how Lyle had told them he was a girl in fear of being rejected.  Natalie crossed her arms.

            “Oh dear…” she said.  She rested her cheek in her hand.  “You’re still welcome to stay if you’d like, Lyle.” She offered.  Lyle shook his head.

            “I think we’re going to have to try another time…I’m sorry. What a mess!” Jehan said with a meek smile, holding Lyle in a hug.

            “Oh that’s okay…I’ll tell the girls what happened.  I’m sure they won’t mind, Sweetie.” She said to Lyle. He nodded into Jehan’s shoulder.

            “Thanks, Natalie.” Feuilly smiled.  “Hopefully this won’t discourage him, huh?” he picked up Lyle’s bag and they headed home. 

            “Have a good night!” Natalie called after them, waving from the door.

 

—o0o—

 

Feuilly and Lyle erected a sheet fort in the living room, and Jehan lined the inside with feather mattresses and pillows. Before long they had a cozy nest, and they all snuggled up inside, watching ‘Stand By Me’, one of Lyle’s favorite movies.  Jehan made cinnamon sugar popcorn and Feuilly tapped into his secret stash of Sour-Patch Kids, and they all ate candy and played cards.  Lyle and Jehan taught Feuilly cat’s cradle. 

            Lyle fell asleep at around midnight, and Jehan smiled, running his hand through the boy’s hair, taking out his braids gently and letting his cocoa colored hair fall around his head like a dark halo.

            “I want him to be happy like this all the time.” He said to Feuilly quietly, continuing to comb his fingers through Lyle’s hair.  “I wish we were in a different world…Where he could be happy forever.”

            “I know, Baby Doll…” Feuilly replied, watching Lyle’s eyelashes flutter as his closed eyes flashed about, dreaming.

            “I don’t want him to have to live like this.  I don’t want him to be afraid to tell people who he is.”

            “Well…We’ll just have to give him that world.” Feuilly smiled.

            “How? We can’t change the whole world…”

            “But we can change how Lyle sees it.” He ran his thumb down Jehan’s porcelain cheek. “We’ll teach him to stand up for himself, and we’ll teach him that he’s awesome exactly how he is, and that if someone can’t see that or accept it, it’s their problem, not his.” Jehan smiled meekly and nodded.

            “I just…why should he have to change?  Why can’t he stay exactly how he is?  Why do we need to teach _him_ to put up with everything?  I don’t want him to have to explain himself.  I want everyone to just see him as a person, not as a boy or a girl or an oddity.”

            “That’s the tough part.” Feuilly replied.

            “I think we need to send him to school in the fall.” Jehan said. “That would make it easier for him to make friends.”  Feuilly nodded.

            “It was fun having him in the shop…but school’ll be good for him.” He smiled, holding Jehan’s hand, holding it against his cheek.  Jehan smiled.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too, Baby Doll.” Feuilly replied.


	8. Chapter 8

That fall, Lyle started at the local junior high school.  At age 12, he was old enough to be starting the 8th grade.

            Lyle hadn’t been back in public school since he had lived with Jehan and Feuilly. Through the court case, he had continued going to his public elementary school, but the stress of the case, his father, and his new home was proving a bit too much for him, and Jehan and Feuilly made the decision to pull him out and homeschool him for the second half of the year and over the summer.  He kept up to date with all of his testing and studies, and was ready to jump right back in to classroom learning when the time came. 

            Though he was very nervous, Lyle was also excited.  Jehan and Feuilly lived a bit of a distance from where he had lived with his father, and Lyle would be starting at a new school.

            He sat at the stood in the kitchen as Jehan put his hair into two French braids, tying each off with a pink primrose.  He wore a teal, long-sleeved tee shirt with a hood and a pair of bright floral jeans.  His favorite pair of teal Chuck Taylors were also coming along.  Around his neck hung his lucky penny, which Feuilly had punched a hole in and strung it so he could always have it when he needed it. He found it in the parking lot of the Child and Family Services center the day Jehan and Feuilly officially adopted him. It was a lucky penny indeed.

            “All ready to go?” Jehan asked, finishing Lyle’s braids and giving him a little smile.

            “I think so!” Lyle cooed in reply.

            “Remember, Jehan will be home all day if you need to call or come home or anything.” Feuilly reminded him.

            “Yup.” He replied, sliding off the stool and picking up his backpack: an old army messenger bag a man had given when he was about Lyle’s age. He lived on the street then, and people often gave him small things when they saw him around.  That particular old man often brought Feuilly things from Goodwill or the Salvation Army, but after a while, he became relatively attached to Feuilly, and gave him more personal items.  The bag had gone to war with him.  The man had since died, but Feuilly kept in touch with him until he did. He was at his wedding.

The bag was all decorated with pins and badges and army metals its previous owner had acquired, and a few that Feuilly found himself.  His favorite was a small, circular badge made of thick ribbon, blue in the center, white, and red around the outside.  He found it at an antique shop and the owner said he could have it for free. It was apparently from the June Rebellion of 1832.  Feuilly wasn’t sure if he believed it, but it looked pretty cool, and it matched the other French military badges the old man had already placed on the bag.

“Don’t forget your homework notebook!” Jehan said, handing Lyle the composition book he was using as a day planner.  Lyle tended to be a bit forgetful, and Jehan didn’t want him to forget his homework assignments. The day before, he and Lyle had decorated it with a collage pretty wrapping paper and pressed flowers and numerous other pretty things so Lyle would know it was his.  He took the notebook from Jehan and placed it carefully beside his other notebooks and three ring binders.

“Do you have your cell phone?” Jehan asked.  Lyle nodded.

“It’s in my bag.”

“Is it turned off?” Feuilly asked.  Lyle nodded.

“Only for emergencies, right?” Jehan added.

“Right.”

“Do you have your lunch?” Jehan inquired.

“Right here!” Lyle held up his floral cloth lunch bag with a smile.

“Good. Let’s go!”

“Bye Dad!” Lyle gave Feuilly a hug.

“I’ll see you when you get home, Bud.” He smiled as Lyle followed Jehan out to the car—Jehan’s powder blue Mini Cooper.  He waved out the door until they turned the corner.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle took a seat in his homeroom class after carefully tucking his bag away in his locker.  He doodled absently in his notebook, drawing flowers and leaves and butterflies with his pencil.  Nobody bothered him—then again, nobody spoke to him either—but he didn’t mind all that much.  He looked up when the teacher began calling attendance. 

            “Jacqueline Adams?” she called.  A girl behind Lyle said ‘here’ lightly.

            “Maggie Bisette?” another ‘here’ from the bag of the room. This went on for a bit, the teacher calling names and the respective student chiming ‘here!’ in turn. Finally she called Lyle’s name.

            “Lyle Prouvaire?” she called.

            “Here!” Lyle said meekly with a little wave.  He was sitting on the edge of the room, and the teacher didn’t see him right away.

            “Lyle! Wonderful.” She smiled. The other students eyed him suspiciously.

            “Isn’t Lyle a boy name?” a girl directly behind him—Maggie Bisette—whispered to her friend.  Some of the others chuckled.  Lyle sighed and continued drawing flowers, touching up the petals of a tiger lily, putting in the spots.  Feuilly had told him before bed the previous night that if anyone said something mean or laughed at him in school, Lyle should ignore them.  If that didn’t work, he said Lyle had his permission to call them out on it, even if it meant saying something a little mean himself.  He had rehearsed what to say in his mind over and over, going through numerous situations and scenarios: “I can wear whatever I feel like.” “I like having my hair long.” “There isn’t anything wrong with having flowers in my hair.” “I have two dads, and they’re both great, so leave me alone.”

            When homeroom was over, Lyle stood up and consulted his schedule. He squeezed his eyes shut. Gym class was first. He went to his locker and retrieved his small gym bag from his backpack—a floral bag matching his lunchbox—and headed towards the front of the school, where the locker rooms were located. He took a deep breath before pushing the door open.  A rush of thick, hot air met him at the door.  The entire space smelled of Axe and sweat.  Lyle gave a little cough and found his gym locker, opening it and placing his things inside, doing his best to ignore all of the other boys eyeing him. Many of the boys who were getting changed in his vicinity moved away.  Lyle ignored them, though he was inwardly upset.  Was there something wrong with him?  Did they think he carried some infectious disease?  He tried not to think about it, taking the lock off his locker and placing his clothes carefully inside, changing into his gym clothes: a purple tie-dye shirt from one of Enjolras’ fundraisers and a pair of black gym shorts.  He was glad he could keep on his teal high tops.  He closed his locker, neglecting to replace the lock, leaving it sitting on the bench as he hurried out into the gym behind the other boys for class.

 

The boy’s gym teacher was a big, tall man who wore a football jersey.  There was also a woman teacher, but she, too was very athletic and somehow intimidating, though she seemed peppy and nice enough as she looked down at the students, sitting in a line against the wall for role call and rules.

            Once again, Lyle sat at the end of the line, nobody sitting very close to him. He played with his friendship bracelet on his skinny wrist, thinking of Feuilly, who wore a matching bracelet. _Be brave_ he thought _Dad told me to be brave, so I’m going to be brave._ He scooted closer to the next boy in the line, closing the gap between them.

            “Ew stop looking at me like that.” The boy whispered.

            “Stop looking like what?” Lyle inquired.  He hadn’t been looking at the boy at all.

            “Everyone knows you’re gay stop looking at me.  I’m not going to date you.”  Lyle was quite taken aback and felt his cheeks grow hot.  He knew he was blushing.

            “But I wasn’t—” he tried to explain.

            “Quiet at the end of the line!” the woman, Mrs. LaRoux, said loudly, startling Lyle, who jumped.  The boys next to him laughed. Lyle sighed and looked at his lap.

            “Now everyone get into two lines!  Boys on one side, girls on the other.  We’re going to run the mile for the national fitness exam!  Whoever’s standing across from you is your partner!” the male teacher, Mr. Duchamp barked.  Everyone got into lines, and Lyle found himself across from a very small girl with messy blonde hair.  She only came up to Lyle’s mid upper arm in height, but then again, Lyle was relatively tall, and stood above most of the other boys.  The small girl gave him a crooked grin, revealing a mouth full of braces and numerous other dental apparatuses: springs, wires, some sort of bridge between two teeth where a tooth was missing.  One of her canine teeth floated above the rest, too far up in her mouth. Lyle grinned back and gave a little wave.

            “I’m Grace.” She said.

            “I’m Lyle.” He replied.

            “Alright! Everyone out to the track!” Mr. Duchamp shouted, blowing the whistle around his neck and pointing to the door across the gym, leading out to the football field and track they were to run on. “Your partner will count your laps for you, then you’ll switch places.” The teacher explained.

            “Do your best!  Run it as fast as you can! Four laps is a mile!” Mrs. LaRoux added. Lyle frowned.  “Boys first!”

            “We have to run a whole mile?” he asked the woman quietly as he walked to the starting line.

            “Yup! Don’t worry!  You’ll do fine.  You can walk some of it if you need to.”

            “Could I…skip running it?  I’m not very fast, and—”

            “Sorry, sweetie.  It’s mandated by the school system.  You have to run it once at the beginning of term, once at the end.  You’re graded on your improvement.” She explained. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Don’t worry.” She gave Lyle a small pat on the back in the direction of the starting line.  When the coach blew his whistle, all of the boys started running and Mrs. LaRoux started her stopwatch.

            “You can do it!” Grace cheered, clapping as Lyle passed the bleachers she and the other girls sat on, counting the laps as the boys ran. Lyle smiled in reply.

 

Lyle fell behind relatively quickly, and soon, some of the boys were lapping him.

            “You’re in the wrong group.” A boy shouted at him as he lapped Lyle. His friend, who ran close by, laughed. Lyle ignored them…He seemed to be doing a lot of ignoring today.  Just then, another boy approached, ready to pass him, but instead kicked at Lyle’s feet as he ran, tripping him up, making him stumble.

            “Stop!” he cooed meekly.

            “Whatever.” The boy passed him.  At the very least, he was no longer kicking Lyle’s heals.  He congratulated himself quietly for saying something.

            “Yay that’s one lap!” Grace shouted as Lyle passed the finish line the first of four times.  Most of the other boys were already working on their second lap.  A few were already on their third.  Only one kid, a relatively large boy, was still behind Lyle, his glasses sliding up and down his nose, his cheeks red.  Lyle looked back to him briefly, but continued running…He was being timed, and didn’t want to get into any trouble for taking too long.

 

A few minutes later, over half of the boys were finished their running, and most of the rest were almost finished their final lap. Lyle had only just started his final lap, and was becoming very tired.  He had walked part of the third lap, but it hadn’t helped much, and his side hurt as he plodded on, his skinny knees hitting each other clumsily as he ran.

He was over half way done the fourth lap when he looked back again.  There was the boy from before, only just finishing the first quarter of his final lap, walking and looking tired.  He seemed limp, and reminded Lyle of a wilted hyacinth, top heavy and droopy just before finally flopping onto the ground in late spring.

Lyle stopped, looking back at him and feeling very badly.  They were the only two still running, and Lyle couldn’t imagine the embarrassment of running all alone as everyone watched.  He turned around and ran to the boy’s side, back tracking almost an entire quarter of the track before turning around again and walking at the boy’s side.

“Hi.” He said, out of breath, but with a smile.

“Hi.” The boy wheezed.

“This is tough, huh?” Lyle continued, breathing heavily, struggling to get words out at all. “I’m not too good at running.”

“Me…neither…” the boy replied, taking a breath between every word as he trudged on, still walking. Lyle walked beside him.

“I’m Lyle. What’s your name?”

“Jack.” He replied.

“We’re half way done the last lap.  I bet we can run the rest.” Lyle smiled.

“I don’t…know…”

“I know you can do it. Come on.  Do it with me.  We’ll run it together.”

“I’ll…try…” Jack said. Lyle sped up, starting to jog again, though his legs felt like pudding.  Jack did the same.  Together they both crossed the finish line at the same time, with a total mile time of 13 minutes and 54 seconds—not very good, but they had done it. 

“Yay! Good job Lyle!” Grace called from the bleachers, clapping.  Lyle gave her a very tired thumbs-up.  Another girl rolled her eyes—probably Jack’s partner.

“Girls now! Head to the start line!” Mrs. LaRoux said.  The girls got up and headed to the line.  Lyle sat on the grass beside Jack.  The bleachers had already filled with boys, and nobody was willing to move to make room for them.

“We did a good job.” Lyle said with a smile, clapping as Grace passed them.

“Not really…We finished last.” Jack replied.

“We did it though. We finished it.” Lyle continued. “I think that’s pretty good all on its own.  We didn’t give up!”

“I guess…” Jack said. They were quiet for a moment, watching the girls run.  Despite her size, Grace held her own, staying with the main group of girls right in the middle.

“Hey Lyle?” he asked as Grace finished her first lap.  Lyle cheered for her.

“Yeah?” he replied, looking to Jack, who was still struggling to catch his breath. Lyle’s breathing had more or less returned to normal after a few minutes, but he felt badly for Jack, who was obviously struggling.

“How come you ran back with me?  You could have finished way sooner…Maybe you could have gotten ten minutes instead of thirteen…” Lyle shrugged.

“I guess…I wouldn’t have really wanted to run all alone with nobody else on the track…so I didn’t think you would want to either.  I don’t really mind taking a long time.  I didn’t want you to have to finish last all by yourself.”

“They’ll make fun of you, you know.” He said.

“They make fun of me anyway. I don’t mind.” Lyle explained with a smile and a bit of a shrug.  Jack gave him a small, quick smile, which Lyle returned wholeheartedly.

 

Grace finished her mile with a time of 8:45, right in the middle of the group, and came to sit beside Lyle and Jack.

            “You’re really fast!” Lyle said, congratulating her.  She shrugged.

            “I like running places.” She explained, tugging on one of her messy pigtails to tighten it.

            “Thanks for counting for me.” He added.

            “Thanks for counting for me too!” she replied with a little giggle. “You did a good job too, Jack.” She added.

            “I finished last.”

            “But you finished it, didn’t you?” she said.  “Last year you threw up!” she smiled.

            “Well thanks for telling.” Jack replied, blushing.

            “That’s okay.  I threw up once on the side of the highway because I was having a panic attack.” Lyle explained, trying to make Jack feel a bit better about himself.

            “One time I threw up on my aunt’s wedding dress!” Grace added, seeming proud of herself, for some reason.  Lyle laughed.

            “That’s not very good!” he said.

            “She was mad, but it was when I was three, so it wasn’t really my fault or anything.” She added.

            “Well that’s good, I guess.” Jack said a bit indifferently.

            “I like your flowers.” Grace said, playing with one of the primroses at the end of Lyle’s braids.

            “Thanks.” He replied.  “My dads own a flower shop so we have lots of flowers!”

            “Dads? Are they gay?” she asked, not meaning to be insensitive.

            “Well…my dad Feuilly says he’s bisexual…But my other dad, Jehan, he’s just gay.” He explained with a smile.

            “That’s kinda cool.  I wish my parents had a flower shop.  All my dad does for a job is type up papers for an insurance company.

            “My mom is a kindergarten teacher and my dad drives a Zamboni.” Jack said.

            “A Zamboni?” Lyle asked.  “What’s that?”

            “That’s the thing that cleans off the ice at hockey games and stuff.” He explained.

            “That’s neat!  Did you ever ride on it?” Grace asked as the last of the girls finished and the class began walking inside.

            “Yup. He let me drive it a few times too.”

            “Lucky!” Grace added.

            “Hey, um…do you guys want to come over after school?  We could just…do homework and eat dinner or something…” Lyle suggested meekly.

            “Can we?” Grace asked with a big grin.  “Nobody ever invites me places!”

            “Me neither.” Jack said less enthusiastically.

            “Come over!  My daddy will pick us up.” Lyle smiled.  Suddenly his outlook on the day became sunnier.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle headed back to the locker room with a smile, heading over to his locker, quite pleased with himself for making two friends. His smile vanished quickly, though, when he saw all of his things thrown around the floor.  It was then that he realized he had forgotten to lock his locker. Someone had gone through all of his things, throwing everything to the ground.  A piece of paper was shoved into the pocket of his floral jeans. He picked it up reluctantly and unfolded it.

 

_Try locking your locker, faggot._

 

Lyle covered his face with his hands and did his best not to cry.  _Dad said be brave.  I have to be brave._ He took a deep breath and picked up his things, getting changed quickly and quietly.  He collected his things and left, heading for his next class.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle was the first to arrive to his literature class that afternoon, and placed his things at a desk towards the back of the room, trying to stay out of the way.  The teacher, a younger man with a bowtie and glasses, looked up from his reading.

            “Hello.” He said with a smile.  Lyle looked up and gave a little wave.

            “Hi.” He said meekly.

            “I like your hair.  Did you do it yourself?” the man asked.

            “No…my dad did it.” Lyle explained.

            “Well that’s pretty cool.  My dad can’t do braids like that!” he chuckled.  Lyle smiled. “What’s your name, then?” he asked, consulting his roster.

            “Lyle. Lyle Prouvaire.” He said quietly.

            “Oh there you are!  You’re new to the school, aren’t you?”  Lyle nodded. “Well we’re glad to have you! I’m Mr. Lamarck. Have you read the summer books?” Lyle nodded.  He liked reading, and had read all of the books before they were assigned, but read them again, just for fun. 

            “The Hobbit was my favorite.  I read that before, but I read it again anyway.” Lyle explained with a smile.

            “That’s my favorite, too.  Secretly, it isn’t really on the mandatory reading list, but I think everyone should read it because it’s so great.” He gave Lyle a wink.

            “I liked the others too.  To Kill a Mockingbird was nice.  And 1984 was good, too.”

            “I’m glad you liked them.  Did you finish up your book report?”  Lyle nodded, standing and handing the teacher his paper in a pink paper folder with his name on the front. 

            “Wow! Very official! I’m impressed.” He smiled.

            “Thanks.” Lyle smiled, moving his things to a desk in the front so that me might speak with his teacher properly.

            “You do know that there’s a half-hour break for lunch…You’re a little early.”

            “Yes…” Lyle admitted.  “I didn’t want to get lost or anything…So I came straight.  I ate lunch fast, I guess.”

            “I see.  I like your pants. They’re pretty snazzy.” He smiled. Lyle blushed.

            “Thanks.”

            “Did you see mine?” he asked, standing.  His own slacks were a shade of bright blue and decorated with a repeating motif of little whales.  Lyle grinned.

            “I like those.  It matches your bowtie.” He noted with a grin.

            “Yup. I have lots of bowties.” Mr. Lamarck smiled.

            “My daddy has lots of scarves he wears.  He has one to match everything like your bowties.” Lyle smiled.

            “That’s a cool collection.” The teacher smiled.  “Where did he get them all?”

            “He had cancer, so all of his friends gave him scarves when he lost all his hair.” Lyle explained.

            “I’m sorry to hear that.  Is he well now?”

            “Mm hm.  He had it when he was 20, so seven years ago.  He’s okay now.” He smiled.

            “I’m glad.” He grinned.  “But is it hereditary? My grandmother had breast cancer, and now my sister is very careful to get checked.”

            “I don’t know…but I’m adopted, so it doesn’t really matter too much.”

            “Ah, I see.” He nodded as the other students started filing into the room. Among them was Jack, who smiled and sat next to Lyle.

            “Can I sit here?” he asked.

            “Of course!” Lyle smiled.

            “Alright, everyone!  For those of you who haven’t met me before, I’m Mr. Lamarck.  We’ll just have a bit of fun today, get to know each other, so if you would please bring your summer reading reports up to the basket on my desk, then come check in with me for attendance and I’ll give you your questionnaire. I like to get to know you guys, so these will just tell me a little about you.” he smiled, handing Lyle a sheet of paper, seeing as he had already handed in his homework. The rest of the class filed up the center of the room and handed in their papers.

            Lyle found that he quite enjoyed answering the questions about himself and his family.

 

_Your full name (do you have a middle name?): Lyle Devin Prouvaire_

_What would you like to be called: Just Lyle_

_What are your parents’/guardians’ names?: Jehan and Feuilly Prouvaire_

_What are your parent’s jobs?: We own a flower shop and Feuilly is a mechanic, too_

_  
What’s your favorite subject in school?: Writing and reading._

_What’s your favorite school elective?: art_

_What’s your least favorite class?: math_

_What’s your least favorite elective?: gym_

_Do you have a favorite color?: I like pink and yellow_

_What do you like to do for fun?: I like growing and breeding flowers and drawing them. I also like to watch movies and read books_

_What’s your favorite food?: take away pizza!  I like apples too, though._

_What color are the walls in your bedroom?: pink_

_Do you play any sports?: no I’m not very good at sports._

_What do you like best about yourself?: I do my very best to be nice to everyone._

_Are you allergic to anything?: nope!_

_Is there anything you feel like I should know about you? (don’t worry, nobody will see this paper except for me!):_

 

Lyle hesitated at the final question. Should he tell Mr. Lamarck about what had happened to him when he was little, and how he still had panic attacks? Should he write about his depression and anxiety and PTSD?  He did trust Mr. Lamarck, and really liked talking to him…He decided to write it all down. Maybe it was important for him to know.

 

 _My real dad abused me when I was little, and I have PTSD and anxiety and depression. Sometimes I have panic attacks, too, but I’m usually okay._ J

 

He drew a little smiley face next to his answer before turning in the sheet of paper with a smile.

            “Thank you very much, Lyle!” Mr. Lamarck said.

 

—o0o—

 

As Lyle was leaving the classroom, Mr. Lamarck called him back.

            “Lyle? Could I speak to you for just a minute?” he asked.  Lyle turned around, frowning slightly.  Jack, too, turned around, intending to wait for Lyle.  “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble!  Jack, you can go on ahead.” He smiled.  Jack nodded and left.  Lyle stood motionless in the doorway.  “Could you close the door please?” he asked.  Lyle did as he was told apprehensively.  He was suddenly slightly frightened of the kind man he had spoken to openly hardly an hour ago. “Would you sit down, please? Please don’t worry, you’re not in trouble at all, Lyle.  I just wanted to talk to you.”  Lyle returned to his desk just in front of the teacher’s desk, his arms crossed, flumping over in his chair in an attempt to hide inside himself, in some way.

            “I was reading through these questionnaires, and I found your answers very interesting.  I was wondering if you would mind speaking to me about them.”

            “I don’t mind.” Lyle replied quietly.

            “I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do for you to make you less prone to anxiety or depression.  I have it too, and I know it can be hard sometimes.” He smiled. Lyle sighed, suddenly relieved and feeling much better.

            “Thanks for asking, but I think…I don’t really know if there’s anything to really do…Sometimes I just have sad days and stuff, but I’m okay.” He smiled.

            “Good. Just tell me if there’s anything I can do.  You can talk to me whenever you need to, alright?” Lyle nodded.

            “Thanks.”

            “You are most welcome.  Have a great evening. I hope I didn’t make you late for your bus!”

            “My daddy picks me up.” Lyle explained.

            “Very good.  Oh! Give this to your parents, would you please?  I’ll see you tomorrow!” Lyle nodded, taking the plain envelope and leaving the classroom with a smile.  Jack and Grace were waiting just outside the door when he left.

            “Did you get in trouble?” Jack asked.

            “No he just had a question about my paper, but it’s okay.” Lyle explained. It wasn’t a lie, after all.

            “Can your dad still drive us to your house?” Grace asked.  Lyle nodded.

            “Yup.” He replied, walking up to the front of the school and out to the truck where Feuilly was waiting. Lyle smiled.

            “I thought Daddy was coming!” he cooed through the open window.

            “I wanted to surprise you.” Feuilly replied.  Who are these guys?” he asked, giving a little wave to Grace and Jack.

            “They’re my friends.  They can come over, right?” Lyle asked, opening the door and pushing the front seat forward so that he and Grace could climb into the back.

            “Of course! Hop in!” he said. Lyle and Grace sat in the back, and Jack took the passenger seat.  “I’m Feuilly. What do I call you guys?” he asked, starting up the truck and heading back home.

            “I’m Grace!” she chimed.  “And that’s Jack.” She added before Jack could introduce himself.

            “Very cool.” Feuilly smiled, proud of Lyle for making not one friend, but two. He stayed quiet though, not wanting to embarrass him.  The kids talked quietly as Feuilly drove, and he couldn’t help but smile.

 

—o0o—

 

“Do you all have the same classes?” Jehan asked, presenting Lyle and his friends with apple slices and peanut butter spoons for a snack as they did their homework.

            “Lyle and me have gym and English and science together.” Jack explained.

            “I have history with Lyle and we all have gym and science together.” Grace added, working on coloring in her map of the world.  Lyle worked on his as well, coloring the countries based upon their national languages.

            “Well it’s nice that you get to be together sometimes.” Jehan smiled. “Would you like anything else? Does anybody need help?”

            “No thanks!” Grace cooed.

            “I’m okay.” Jack added.

            “Thanks though, Daddy.”

            “Okay I finished.  Are you guys finished?” Grace asked.

            “I am.” Lyle said with a smile, coloring in his last country.

            “I just have one more math problem…” Jack said, writing one final thing on his paper before smiling and standing.  “Can we see your room, Lyle?”  Lyle shrugged.

            “Sure I guess.” He grinned, walking his friends to the stairs.

            “You have a big house.” Grace cooed, admiring the chandelier that hung at the bottom of the stairs, just above the door.

 

Jehan smiled up at Feuilly as he cleaned up after the kids’ snack.

            “I guess Lyle had a good first day, then.”

            “I guess so.” Feuilly agreed, taking Jehan’s hands and pulling him into a hug.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~Sorry it's been so long for an update!  I had no internet for 5 days!  Somebody asked for Lyle at school, so I sent Lyle to school!  I think he had a pretty okay day, despite some hiccups :)


	9. Chapter 9

Lyle, Jack, and Grace stayed upstairs for quite a while, playing cards and telling jokes.  Lyle showed Jack his collection of manga comic books—mostly independents that Feuilly liked when he was young.  Lyle liked the artwork.

            While the kids played upstairs, Jehan decided to clean up a bit while Feuilly started dinner—veggie burgers and honeydew-mint salad (Jehan’s favorite). Jehan was just placing Lyle’s homework papers back into his binder when he noticed an envelope addressed to _The Parents of Lyle Prouvaire_. He bowed his eyebrows, curious, before turning and showing it to Feuilly.

            “Well open it.” Feuilly said with a shrug, his hands full of mashed garbanzo beans, the meaty part of the burgers.

            “I feel bad, though…What if Lyle doesn’t want us to see it?”

            “It’s addressed to us, not Lyle.  He probably just forgot.  He forgets everything.” Feuilly chuckled.

            “Alright…” Jehan slipped his thumbs under the flap on the envelope and pulled it open gently.  He took the folded piece of paper gingerly and unfolded it, reading the large, clear handwriting.

 

            _Monsieur’s Feuilly and Jehan Prouvaire,_

_My name is Maximilien Lamarque, and I am Lyle’s French Literature teacher. Today, my class completed a short questionnaire so that I might get to know them a bit better. The activity concluded with a general question, asking if the children had anything else they wished to tell me that had not been included in the questionnaire._

_In this section, Lyle wrote that he had been abused by his father before he was adopted, and that he suffered from anxiety, depression, PTSD, etc. and I wanted to contact you to ask if there is anything I can do to be more helpful to Lyle this school year. I spoke with him briefly after class, and he assured me that he was in control of his anxiety, but I just wanted to be sure.  This is my first year teaching, and I wanted to do things right!_

_Please feel free to call or email with any concerns.  I am also a licensed psychologist and would be happy to help in any way I can, though I’m sure Lyle is in the best hands possible with you and your family!_

_Best,_

_Maximilien Lamarque_

_maxlamarque@westside.jhs.com_

_877-159-2539 ext. 423_

            “Oh that was so sweet of him!” Jehan smiled, folding the letter and replacing it in the envelope.

            “Yeah. That was nice. Good to know someone cares about Lyle besides us.”

            “What do you mean?” Jehan asked.

            “Well…He said he had a hard time with some of the guys in gym class…and in the hallway…and…other places.”

            “Really? Oh no…Feuilly why didn’t you tell me?”

            “I didn’t want you to be upset…He handled it.  He’s cool.”

            “I was afraid this would happen…”

            “Hey Baby Doll, kids get picked on all the time.  It happens.  If it gets bad, we’ll take care of it, but shit happens.  He’ll be okay.  Don’t worry.”

            “I don’t want anything to happen to him…”

            “Nothing’s going to happen, kiddo.  It’s okay.” He took Jehan in his arms and held him close.  “It’s good for him.  It’ll toughen him up a little.”

            “I guess so…”

            “You can’t protect him forever, Baby Doll.  He’s alright.  He handled it.” Jehan smiled and craned his neck as Feuilly looked down.  They met in a kiss, just as Lyle and his friends headed down the stairs.  They pulled apart quickly, not wanting to embarrass Lyle.

            “Daddy is supper almost ready?” Lyle asked quietly.

            “It smells nice in here.” Jack said with a smile.

            “Um…Feuilly is dinner almost ready?” Jehan asked, running his hand through Lyle’s hair.

            “Yup. All set.” Feuilly replied, flipping the last of the burgers from the stovetop grill and onto buns.

            “What’s dinner?” Jack asked. 

            “Veggie burgers!  And minty melon salad. I wasn’t sure if anybody was vegan or vegetarian or had celiac disease or lactose intolerance or anything, so we made a completely hypoallergenic all organic veggie dinner!” he smiled. Jack’s smile faded.

            “Anybody want cheese on theirs?” Feuilly asked.  “It’s just like…regular cheese, just FYI.” He added, slapping a slice onto his own burger.

            “Could I have some please?” Grace said with a smile, tugging on one of her messy pigtails.

            “Of course you can, Lovely!” Jehan replied.  “Would you like any, Jack?  Lyle, you don’t usually like cheese on yours…”

            “Um…do you have…like…regular hamburgers?” Jack asked somewhat nervously, sitting at the table next to Lyle, his head rested in his pudgy hands. He pushed his glasses up his upturned nose.  Jehan frowned.

            “Oh I’m sorry…We don’t eat red meat…” Jehan said apologetically.

            “I can make a turkey burger.  Or a tofu burger.” Feuilly suggested, placing the platter on the table.

            “Um…no…that’s okay.” Jack replied with a sigh.

            “How about something else?  Want eggs or something?” Feuilly asked.

            “No that’s okay.” Jack repeated.

            “You should try it Jack.  These are tasty!” Grace said with a smile, taking a big bite of her burger. “You can hardly tell it’s different from a regular cheeseburger!” she grinned.  Jehan smiled.

            “I don’t think so…” Jack said, crossing his arms across his chest.

            “Well…what sorts of things do you like, Jack?” Jehan asked. “Feuilly is a wonderful cook. I’m sure he can make something you like.” He smiled.

            “I like…potato fries…and I like chicken fingers, and apples…”

            “Hm…” Jehan hummed, a bit upset.  He knew proper food could be expensive, and that Jack’s parents may not be able to afford healthy foods, but he was sad that Jack wouldn’t even try something new.

            “I’m not sure we have any of that…How about you try one bite, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish.” Feuilly suggested.  “You might really like it.”

            “I guess so…” Jack said, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a small nibble of his cheeseburger.  Lyle smiled, seeing Jack’s pleasantly surprised expression.

            “Do you like it?” Lyle asked quietly.

            “It’s pretty nice.” Jack smiled.

            “I’m so happy you think it’s nice!” Jehan cooed.

 

—o0o—

 

Shortly after everyone finished their ice cream and strawberries, Grace’s mother knocked on the door, smiling and giving a wave when Jehan came to the door.  Grace’s mother looked just like an older Grace, with the same straight, bleached blonde hair and blue eyes.  Even their smiles were the same, a little crooked, but charming.  Jehan held the door for her.

            “Hello! I’m Pricilla!” the woman said with a grin.

            “Jehan Prouvaire.  Nice to meet you! You’re Grace’s mama, I presume.”

            “I am! Thank you so much for having her over. She has a bit of trouble with friends…”she whispered.

            “Lyle is the same way…But they seem to have found each other!”

            “Hello Mommy!” Grace said, giving her mother a hug.

            “Hey baby girl!  Did you have fun?” she asked. Grace nodded.

            “Hey. Feuilly.” Feuilly said simply with a grin, offering the woman his hand.  She took it and gave a firm handshake.  Lyle and Jack appeared behind to show Grace off.

            “Have you eaten, baby girl?” Pricilla asked.

            “Yeah Mr. Feuilly made tasty veggie burgers it was good!” she raved.

            “Thank you guys!  I’m sure we’ll see you again!” Pricilla said with a smile.

            “Bye Grace!” Lyle cooed.

            “Bye you guys!” she replied.

 

Shortly after Grace left, Jack’s father knocked on the door.  Feuilly answered this time, leaving Jehan to his book in the armchair.

            “Hey.” Feuilly said with a bright smile.  The man offered a little nod, still dressed for work: a white collar office job, judging upon his blazer and tie.  He was quite a bit older than Jehan and Feuilly, and was beginning to bald. He was a rather large man, and probably weighed at least triple Jehan.

            “Hello. Thomas Elliot.” He introduced himself.

            “Feuilly. And this is Jehan.” He smiled as Jehan crept up beside him.

            “Thank you for having Jack.  I hope he behaved himself.”

            “He most certainly did!” Jehan cooed.

            “You’re a lucky guy, Mr. Feuilly.  My wife left me years ago.” Thomas said with a bit of a chuckle.

            “Hopefully my little Jean Prouvaire will stick around.” Feuilly said, taking Jehan around the shoulders and pulling him into a sort of side hug.

            “I don’t think I’ll be leaving.” He replied with a light laugh.

            “Your name is Jean?” the man asked.

            “My given name is Jean, but my parents started calling me Jehan when I was about three, so that’s what usually go by.” Jehan explained with a smile.

            “Ah…I see…My oldest sons name is Jean” the man said,  “Did you give Jack dinner?  It’s not a big deal, I just have to pick something up if not.”

            “Yup he ate.” Feuilly said with a smile.

            “Yes! He was very brave. We made veggie burgers and he tried it!”

            “Serious? He ate it?”

            “Yup. He liked it a lot.” Feuilly grinned.

            “I can’t believe it.  That kid won’t eat anything for me!”

            “I can write down the recipe if you’d like.” Jehan said with a smile.

            “Eh…I don’t really have much time to cook at night.  Thanks anyway, though.”

            “Oh alright.” Jehan replied, seeming a bit taken aback. He suddenly felt very lucky that he and Feuilly had enough time to give Lyle nice dinners every night. He hadn’t realized that many children do not eat properly.

            “Hi Dad.” Jack said as he and Lyle headed downstairs, Lyle sliding down the banister, Jack taking the traditional route. 

            “Hey there, Kiddo!  Ready to go?” Jack nodded, picking up his backpack from where it hung by the door.  “Thanks a lot!” he said to Feuilly and Jehan with a wave.

            “Bye Lyle!” Jack called.  Lyle gave a little wave, and the moment the door shut, Jehan wrapped Lyle in the biggest hug he could muster.

            “I am so proud of you, my Little Love.” He said.  “You were so brave today, and you made friends!”

            “You did good, kid.” Feuilly added, rubbing Lyle’s head and messing up his hair. Lyle giggled.

            “It wasn’t so bad.  Some kids were sorta mean, but me and Jack and Grace did lots of stuff together.” He smiled.

            “I’m so glad.”

\--o0o--

That Saturday, Lyle and Feuilly went out grocery shopping, and Jehan was putting laundry in the washing machine. Before tossing Lyle’s pink floral jeans into the machine, something in the pocket caught his eye. He removed the folded slip of paper and opened it.

 

_Try locking your locker faggot_

 

Jehan covered his mouth with his hand and blinked back boiling, angry tears.  He wanted to vomit, and couldn’t think straight, his normally sunny disposition clouded with a thick, sickening haze of pure rage.  He couldn’t remember ever being this angry, and he didn’t know what to do. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, picking up the phone and dialing Enjolras.

            “Jehan?” Enjolras asked from the other end of the line.

            “Could you please come over?” Jehan asked.  Enjolras was taken aback.  He could tell Jehan had been—and still was—crying.

            “Yeah I’ll be right over.  Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

            “No that’s alright, I just…please come.”

            “I’ll be right there.” He said again before hanging up.

 

Jehan was sitting on the sofa, his face in his hands, the note in his lap, when Enjolras came in.

            “Jehan what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting beside him, brushing his unruly hair back and away from his face as he looked up.  His nose was red and his eyes were bloodshot as he handed the crumpled note to Enjolras, who unwrinkled it and read it.

            “Do you know who wrote it?” Enjolras asked, obviously put off. His face was red and his tone changed. His eyes took on a toxic glow.

            “No. I found it in Lyle’s pocket when I was doing the wash…What do I do, Enjolras?  My poor little Lyle!” he cried.  He fell into Enjolras, who rubbed circles on his back, hugging him as he sniffled.

            “Don’t cry, Jehan.  That won’t fix anything. You need to ask Lyle about this, and then you need to go to the school and get this straightened out. Alright?”  Jehan nodded, wiping his eyes. 

            “But why would anyone do that, Enjolras?  Lyle hasn’t done anything wrong…my poor dear…”

            “It’s alright, Jehan.  We’ll straighten it out.  Don’t worry.” Enjolras smiled.

 

—o0o—

 

            “It wasn’t a big deal…I forgot to lock my locker at gym and when I came back after class, that was in my pants pocket, but it’s okay.  It’s just a piece of paper.” Lyle said, though Jehan could tell he didn’t mean it.  The look in his deep brown eyes suggested hurt feelings and sorrow.

            “Lyle this is really important.” Feuilly said, draping his strong arm around Lyle’s skinny shoulders, holding him close.  “It’s not okay.  It is a big deal. Do you know who could have done it?”

            “Well…It had to be someone in my gym class…And a boy…” Lyle said quietly.

            “We’re going to take care of this, alright Lyle?  It won’t ever happen again.” Jehan assured him. Lyle shrugged, slipping from Feuilly’s embrace and sliding off the sofa. 

            “I’m going to go to sleep now I think…Is that okay?” Lyle asked, standing on the bottom stair.

            “Of course Lovely.” Jehan said with a small smile.  “Goodnight!”

            “Night-night Daddy.”

            “Love ya, kiddo.” Feuilly added with a grin, his gold tooth glinting.

            “Love you too!” Lyle glided up the stairs, his long, skinny legs carrying him quickly and quietly.  Jehan stood up from the armchair and snuggled in next to Feuilly.

            “Do you think we should go to the school, Dearest?” Jehan asked. Feuilly nodded.

            “Yeah…That’s not right.”

            “But what will they do, Feuilly?  What will happen?”

            “They’ll catch the asshole and hopefully punish him.  If I had it my way, the little bitch would have to spend the afternoon with me.”

            “Don’t say that, Feuilly…Perhaps whoever did it has problems of their own.”

            “That doesn’t give them the right to take it out on Lyle.”

            “I’m just worried nothing will happen and we’ll have wasted our time…”

            “You sound like Grantaire.” Feuilly joked.  Jehan gave a small, sad giggle, pushing the stray hairs out of his face, behind his small ears.  Feuilly leaned over and kissed his temple, prompting another, brighter giggle from Jehan. Feuilly nuzzled his ear with his nose, smiling at Jehan’s flowery scent, his hair still damp from his shower, pulled up into a messy knot for bedtime.

            “Feuilly!” Jehan said, laughing, turning to face him and taking his cheek carefully in his nimble hand, running his fingers down Feuilly’s scruffy chin and down his neck.  Feuilly leaned into his touch, and Jehan met him for a long, gentle kiss, Feuilly’s hand traveling down Jehan’s neck.  He ran his hand across his delicate collarbone, and Jehan jumped at the touch, biting Feuilly’s lip.

            “Aw shit, Baby Doll!” he laughed, pulling away and slapping a hand to his mouth, catching the trickle of blood.

            “Oh Dearest I’m sorry!” Jehan sprung up and ran to the kitchen tearing away a paper towel from the roll and handing it to Feuilly, who held it to his lip.

            “That’s okay.  It was my fault. I scared you!” he laughed again.

            “Just surprised is all.  You know how I get.” He smiled meekly.

            “I do know how you get.  You get really timid and jumpy as hell.”

            “But Feuilly, I’m always timid, and I’m not jumpy, I’m…excited.” He smiled again.

            “Oh, you’re _excited_.” Feuilly smirked suggestively.  “I see how it is.” He said, taking Jehan’s shoulders delicately but firmly and pushing him down until he was laying down on the sofa.  The moment he was there, Feuilly put his knee down between Jehan’s knees, then leaned forward and kissed Jehan far more aggressively than he had before, allowing his knee to wander upwards without Jehan noticing until it was far too late.  Jehan suddenly tensed and gave a surprised sort of shout before Feuilly slapped his hand over Jehan’s mouth to stop him.

            “Jesus Jehan you’re so loud!” Feuilly whispered, laughing. Jehan laughed as well. For someone so soft-spoken and quiet in nearly every other aspect of life, Jehan was extremely vocal when it came to activities concerning love.  Feuilly could hardly touch him anywhere between his neck and his knees without eliciting a squeal, a giggle, some sort of angry-cat-like sound, or an elated holler. 

            “I can’t help it Feuilly!” he replied, still laughing, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Feuilly’s neck in a hug, kissing his scruffy cheek. “I don’t understand how you can have so many wonderful feelings fluttering around inside of you and not let any of them out!”

            “I guess my feelings don’t flutter as much as yours.” Feuilly replied.

            “I love you so, my Dearest.”

            “You’re pretty okay too I guess.” Feuilly replied with a smirk, brushing Jehan’s reddish flyaway hair away from his girlish face, his pale eyelashes batting.

            “Daddy?” Lyle cooed from somewhere nearby.  Jehan’s eyes widened and he and Feuilly both whipped around, facing the staircase where Lyle was sitting.

            “Yes my love?  Is everything alright?” Jehan asked as Feuilly stood up and went to Lyle.

            “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to—”

            “How long were you sitting there?” Feuilly asked, raising an eyebrow, not angry at all, trying to make Lyle laugh, which he did.

            “Not too long.  I just saw you sitting and saying how much you love each other” He replied with a blush. “I would like a cup of water though. There are no more cups up in the bathroom.” He explained.

            “I can handle that.” Feuilly said with a smile, going to the kitchen and returning a moment later with a cup of water.

            “Thanks Dad.” Lyle said quietly with a smile, standing on the second step and leaning forward to give Feuilly a kiss on the cheek.

            “No problem, Kiddo.  Now get your butt to bed!”

            “Yup!” he cooed, hurrying back up the stairs.

            “That’s why you can’t be so loud, Jehan Prouvaire.” Feuilly joked, sitting back down beside Jehan on the sofa.  But Jehan had already fallen asleep.  “You can fall asleep anywhere, can’t you?” he said with a smile, easily lifting Jehan and carrying him up to bed.  Jehan woke up half way there and wrapped his arms around Feuilly, earning himself a kiss on the hair.  Feuilly tucked him into the massive king-sized bed, covering him up and climbing in beside him.

            “Love you, Baby Doll.” He whispered.  Jehan gave a contented hum in reply.


	10. Chapter 10

At around noon the next day, Jehan drove up to the middle school, nasty note in hand, his jaw set and his cheeks red. Feuilly had been called into work to help with an unexpected engine rebuild, leaving Jehan to attend their appointment with the principal alone.  Truth be told, he was horrified, but he wasn’t going to let his shyness get in the way of Lyle’s wellbeing, so he marched through the doors and up to the office desk, taking a breath before ringing the bell for the secretary.

            “Good morning.  How can I help you?”

            “I-I’m here to see the principal.  I have an appointment.” He said as bravely as he could, though he could hear himself stammering. 

            “Could I have your name and the name of your student, please?” she asked.

            “My name is Jehan Prouvaire.  I’m Lyle Prouvaire’s adoptive father.” He explained.  He had to specify that Lyle was adopted whenever he dealt with the school, because they had been informed about Lyle’s past, and took precautions to make sure his biological father didn’t find and take him.

            “Alright. Come on back.” The woman smiled, standing and leading Jehan back into the principal’s office.  She left Jehan sitting alone at the desk. “She’ll be in in just a second.” She assured him.

            “Thank you.” he replied timidly, sitting quietly, his hands folded in his lap. He played with the embroidered cuffs of his shirt, crossing and un-crossing his legs, slipping his feet in and out of his beaded moccasins.  Combeferre had given them to him for his birthday.  His father, a Lakota Native American, had made them especially for him with pink and pearly beads in a floral design.  Jehan wore them all the time.

            He jumped when the doorknob turned, nearly ripping the already worn sticky note in his hands, the one Lyle had found in his locker.

            “Feuilly?” the woman asked, her hair pulled back into a tight, flawless bun.

            “Jehan…Feuilly is my husband…He had an emergency at work.” Jehan explained, struggling to meet her eyes, but making himself.  He was not going to let this scare him.  He had to do this for Lyle.  The woman smiled, her perfect teeth contrasting with her ebony skin.  She offered Jehan her hand, and he took it lightly. He hoped she couldn’t feel him shaking, though he was sure she could.

            “Angeline Aurand.” She introduced herself.  “You’re Lyle’s guardian.  I understand there has been a problem.”

            “Y-yes.” Jehan said, pushing his loose braid back behind his ear. “There was—I mean…He came home with this in his pocket and said that someone put it in his gym locker.” He handed placed the note on the desk and pushing it towards her with his delicate fingers. She took it and inspected it.

            “Does Lyle have any idea who this could have been written by?” she asked, folding her hands on her desk.

            “He said it must have been a boy in his gym class, but he didn’t say anything else.”

            “Well I can assure you, we will get to the bottom of this.”

            “What do we do in the mean time?” Jehan asked, trying to think of what Feuilly would say.  He always knew what to ask to get things done.  Though he wasn’t one for speaking much, when he did say something, it was always important and meaningful. 

            “In the meantime, we can talk to Lyle and see if he knows anything else or if there have been any other incidents, and then we can work with him to help prevent issues in the future.”

            “How will this be handled, though?  How will you find out who did it?”

            “Trying to find an individual would be nearly impossible, seeing as all we have is a sticky note.  So instead, I will speak with Lyle’s gym teachers, and they will decide the best way to prevent this from happening again, whether that be a class meeting or new rules for locker room access in the future.”

            “But what about a consequence?  Lyle was very upset because of this.  It isn’t right for someone to just…to just get away with it like that.”

            “I assure you we take bullying very seriously and our protocol is to work towards prevention and positive reinforcement.”

            “But how will that help?  Prevention can’t make Lyle feel better about what already happened!  Brushing it off and pretending it didn’t happen won’t fix anything at all!”

            “Explaining to students that an incident occurred and that there will be new measures taken to prevent it from happening again will teach them that what happened was unacceptable.”

            “But that isn’t helping Lyle at all!  Not to mention your protocol is completely ignoring the fact that there may be another child in need of counseling.  Whoever did this may be suffering as well, and you’re just ignoring them!”

            “That is a different issue and will be handled separately should the circumstances arise.  Let’s deal with this issue first.  Has Lyle gotten a lock for his locker?” she asked.  Jehan’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

            “What do you mean ‘does Lyle have a lock’?  Does it matter?  It shouldn’t have happened, regardless of whether or not Lyle’s locker was locked!” he nearly shouted, standing. “Somebody called my little boy a faggot and threw all of his things out of his locker and around the room! Not only is this bullying, it’s sexual harassment, and I will not blame Lyle for this!”

            “Please sit down, Mr. Prouvaire, nobody is blaming Lyle.  I am simply stating that perhaps the incident could have been avoided.  Is there anything else that could have triggered the problem?” Jehan could not believe what he was hearing.  He nearly left, unable to handle what he was hearing. 

            “Nothing makes calling a little boy a sexual slur okay!  No!  Lyle did absolutely nothing to trigger this!”

            “I understand Lyle tends to wear more…feminine articles of clothing. Perhaps until this is settled, he could wear something a bit more neutral—”  Jehan stood up again, tears in his eyes he dared not let spill.

            “My little boy is not changing because of this.  He is staying exactly who he is.  He is not the problem here.  Your system is. I want the child who did this to be found and for disciplinary actions to be taken.  Then I want that child to be questioned to be sure they don’t have any stressors of their own that could have prompted them to do this. If that doesn’t happen, I’m getting a third party involved who will make it happen.” He said, standing in the doorway before turning and closing the door, putting his face in his hands, wiping his eyes before leaving the building and sitting in his little blue car. Only there did he let his tears slip quietly from his eyes.

            “Why does this have to happen?” he asked nobody in particular—God, perhaps. He wasn’t sure. “Why did this happen to Lyle? Why did it happen to me?” he closed his eyes, thinking back to his own middle and high school experience. He was harassed every day, whether it was someone pulling his long hair, or tripping him in the hallway, or whacking his books from his arms, or calling him names.  In middle school, someone had poured a carton of milk on his head during lunch.  He had to change in the bathroom for gym instead of the locker room with everyone else because if he did, boys would threaten him and accuse him of looking at them wrong. God forbid he brush against someone while changing. That would get him a physical beating, which happened more than once.  And nothing was ever done.  His parents had gone to the school, just like he had.  They had done everything they could, and still he was constantly abused. But at the very least, Jehan had a pleasant home life and good friends.  Lyle had already been through so much abuse in his little life. He didn’t need this. He didn’t deserve this. Lyle was the last person on earth who deserved to be tormented for something as petty as the way he dressed and did his hair.

            “Why can’t he be happy?  Why can’t everyone just let him be happy?” 

 

—o0o—

 

The next day, Jehan received a phone call from the principal of Lyle’s school.  She said that after asking the gym coaches and other teachers, they were able to match the handwriting.

            “Well who was it?” Jehan asked. 

            “Jack Elliot.” She replied.  Jehan nearly dropped the phone.

            “Oh…alright. Thank you.  I really appreciate the effort.” He said, then hung up the phone.

            “What’s up?” Feuilly asked.  Jehan’s eyes shined with the promise of tears, and he fell into Feuilly, who rubbed his back, kissing the top of his head.  “It’s okay, Baby Doll.”

            “It’s not okay, Feuilly.” Jehan squeaked into Feuilly’s chest, sniffling. “Jack did it.  Jack wrote the note.  Oh Dearest, what are we going to tell Lyle?  He’ll be so upset!”

            “Oh man…that is a bummer…But why would he do that?  He seemed nice enough.” Feuilly said, releasing Jehan and running a hand through his own unruly hair.

            “I don’t know!  I don’t know, Feuilly! Why did this happen? Why does poor Lyle have to deal with all of this…?” he cried, leaning into Feuilly again, not so much in an embrace, but simply using him for support.  Feuilly held him up, letting him cry as much as he needed. Jehan was very sensitive, and wore his emotions on his sleeves.  If he was upset, he cried.  If he was happy, he jumped and laughed.  When he was angry, his face turned a terrible shade of red and he shouted as loud as he could—which wasn’t very loud.  And Feuilly was always there to hold him or dance with him or offer him comfort.

            “I don’t know, Jehan.  It isn’t fair, and it isn’t right, but we just have to keep going and push through this.”

            “But what about Jack, Feuilly?  Imagine how sad he must be…Why would he have done that if he wasn’t sad himself? We have to help him, Feuilly, we can’t let him be upset like that!  But poor Lyle…”

            “Come here, Baby Doll.” Feuilly said, taking Jehan’s hand and leading him over to the sofa, sitting him down and letting him lean against his shoulder. He ran his hand down Jehan’s loose braid, the tips of his longest strands still curly from his chemotherapy treatment nearly eight years ago—he hadn’t had a hair cut since.

            “Do you know why I love you so much, Jehan?” he asked, nuzzling Jehan’s ear with his nose.  Jehan only shrugged absently, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.  “I love you so much because you love everyone, and you want to make the whole world just as wonderful as you.  But Jehan, no matter how badly you want to make the whole world happy, there will always be people you can’t change.  We need to work on our little guy before we worry about anyone else.”

            “I know…” Jehan said, “I know it, I just…I can’t stand to see anyone upset…”

            “And I can’t stand to see you upset.” Feuilly replied, kissing Jehan’s cheek, prompting him to turn his head and meet in the middle for a proper kiss on the lips. “We’re gonna worry about Lyle first. Then we can work on the rest of the world.” Feuilly said with a little smile, which Jehan returned meekly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~WHOA TWIST!!!  
  
What am I doing I have no idea what I'm doing.


	11. Chapter 11

Feuilly sat on the edge of Lyle’s bed that night, distracting Lyle from his reading.  He looked up, slightly startled, but smiled when he saw it was only Feuilly.

            “Hi, Dad.” He cooed, finding his bookmark and slipping it between the pages.

            “Hey Bud.” Feuilly replied, not nearly as excited as Lyle.

            “What’s wrong?” Lyle asked, frowning ever-so-slightly.  Feuilly sighed and patted his knee.  Lyle crawled across the bed and sat in Feuilly’s lap, leaning against his broad chest.  He played with his hair, twirling one of his pigtails around his fingers. Lyle kept his hair cut short—to his shoulders—and couldn’t pull it into a single ponytail, so he usually kept it in pigtails or braids.  Feuilly tugged on the opposite pigtail lovingly, and Lyle giggled.

            “You know I love you so much, right?” Feuilly asked.

            “I love you too, Dad.” Lyle replied.

            “Me and your daddy don’t ever want you to be sad.  Not ever.”

            “I’m not sad.  I’m okay. I took my medicine tonight.” He assured Feuilly, thinking their conversation was about his depression issues.

            “I took mine too.” Feuilly said with a smirk.  Lyle rolled his eyes and flopped back and Feuilly’s arms. Feuilly held him until he sat up again, both of them laughing.

            “Good job.” Lyle pat Feuilly on the head. 

            “But I don’t want to talk about taking medicine.” Feuilly continued.

            “Then what do you want to talk about?”

            “I want to talk about what happened in school today.”

            “It’s okay.  I’m not too sad about that…It was my fault.  I should have closed my locker…”

            “It isn’t your fault, Lyle.  It shouldn’t have happened. But I wanted to know if you know who did it.”

            “I promise I don’t know.  I would tell if I knew, even though that’s sort of like…being a tattle tale…I don’t know who it was, I promise, Dad.”

            “It’s okay, I just…they found out who it was.” Feuilly struggled. He ran a hand through his wavy shoulder-length hair before pulling it up into a stubby ponytail, tying it with the elastic around his wrist.

            “Who did it?” Lyle asked, suddenly far more interested.  Though he assured Feuilly and Jehan he wasn’t worried about it, he really was, and he did want to know who was behind the incident.

            “Jack.” Feuilly said simply.  It broke his heart when he saw the tears form in Lyle’s big brown eyes.

            “Jack Elliot?” Lyle squeaked, wiping his eyes on the back of his hands. Feuilly nodded. Lyle fell into him, crying into his shirt while Feuilly rubbed his back.  “Why did he do that?” he mumbled, sniffling.

            “I don’t know, Kiddo…But it wasn’t too nice, and we’re gonna take care of it, okay?”

            “What’ll happen to Jack?”

            “I don’t know, bud.  But don’t worry, okay? Just go to sleep now, alright?” Lyle nodded.

            “Can you stay with me?” he asked, slipping back under the covers, snuggling up with his stuffed dog.

            “Sure. Just let me get my PJs on.” He smiled, returning a moment later in a pair of flannel bottoms that hung loosely at his narrow hips.  Lyle bowed his eyebrows.

            “I didn’t know you had a tattoo there.” Lyle said as Feuilly sat down, looking to the small sprig of lily-of-the-valley flowers tied with a purple ribbon on Feuilly’s lower hip. 

            “Never saw that one?” he asked, laying down beside Lyle with a grin. Lyle shook his head.

            “It’s pretty.”

            “I got it the day after Jehan went into remission.”

            “That was nice of you.” Lyle said with a sad sort of sigh, closing his eyes.

            “It’s okay to be sad about Jack, Lyle.”

            “But I don’t want to be sad.” He replied, sniffling, tears beginning to fall again.  Feuilly gave him a hug.

            “I know…but sometimes being sad makes you feel better later. It’s okay.  Things will get better, Lyle.  I promise.”

 

—o0o—

 

“Do you think I should talk to him?” Lyle asked Jehan that following Monday as he pulled on his backpack.

            “If you want to talk to him, then you should talk to him. But whatever you decide, do not be mean.”

            “I promise I won’t.” Lyle replied with a smile.

            “Good. Are you ready to go?” Lyle nodded, and together he and Jehan walked out to the little blue mini cooper.

 

At school, Lyle walked to his locker as he usually did, taking off his pale blue fleece and hanging it up. He took off the hat Joly had knitted for him—Joly was very good at knitting—and hung that up as well, smiling until he was shoved from behind.

            “Hey look, Lila Prouvaire’s in the closet.” An anonymous boy crooned, he and his friends laughing.

            “My name is Lyle, not Lila.” Lyle said, pushing himself up and turning around to look at them.

            “Whatever, _Lila_.” He replied, walking away with his friends.  Lyle sighed, taking his gym bag out of his locker before beginning his walk to the gym. He decided to get to the locker room early, before class actually started, so that he could get changed without anyone else around.  He refused to change in the shower stalls.  He wasn’t going to inconvenience himself because someone didn’t like the way he did his hair or the color of his gym shirt.  And lots of the girls got to the gym early.  He could talk to Grace.  In fact, she was waiting out in the gym when Lyle walked out.

            “Hiya, Lyle!” she said, sitting on the hard wood floor and tying her light up shoes—she was very tiny, and still fit into kid sizes.  Lyle sat beside her and put on his own new running shoes. As much as he loved his Chuck Taylors, they weren’t the best for running around. 

            “Hello!” he replied cheerfully, though he was terribly nervous. How would Jack react to him today?

            “Did you do any fun stuff this weekend?” she asked.

            “We were at the flower shop most of the weekend.  It was nice, though.  We made lots of flower crowns for a wedding.” He smiled.

            “I was a flower girl once!” Grace cooed.

            “I’ve always wanted to be in a wedding.  Is it fun?”

            “I don’t really remember…I was three.  My mom said I tried to eat the flowers.” She grinned, her braces and other dental apparatuses shining in the florescent lights.  The rest of the class began to filter into the large room, and soon, Jack joined Grace and Lyle on the floor.

            “Hi you guys.” He said, slightly out of breath already.  Lyle smiled.

            “Hi!” he tried his best to be ‘normal’, his usual cheerful self, but it was difficult when he knew what Jack had done.

            “Did you do fun stuff in the weekend?” Grace asked again.  “Lyle was at the flower shop and I went peach picking with my mom and dad.” She smiled.

            “My little cousin René really likes peaches.” Lyle noted with a giggle.

            “I didn’t do anything fun.  I just watched Star Wars.”

            “Well that’s fun.  I like Star Wars. My Dad really likes them so we watch them sometimes.” Lyle grinned.

            “I never saw those…But I like Indiana Jones.” Grace smiled.

            “How come you have that Band-Aid on your hand, Lyle?” Jack asked. Lyle looked down to the Band-Aid on the back of his hand, across his knuckles.  He had whacked it when he was pushed into his locker, and had taken a Band-Aid out of his gym bag to cover the bleeding.

            “Oh…I…I got shoved into my locker.” He admitted.

            “Oh that’s a bummer.” Grace frowned.  Jack didn’t seem to have much of a reaction.  “Sorry.”

            “That’s okay…It happens sometimes, but I’m okay.  They didn’t mean to really hurt my hand…”

            “I never got shoved in a locker before.  I think I could fit inside with the door closed, though!” she added, sounding far too excited.  “I bet that would be kind of fun, for a little while.  Like living in a little tiny room!”

            “I think I’m too tall to fit…” Lyle said with a small meek smile. Jack only shrugged.

            “Girls, line up for attendance!” the coach shouted.  “Boys too!” the class split, the boys against one wall, the girls against the other.  Lyle stood next to Jack.

            “I know you wrote the note.” Lyle whispered after a moment of silence between them, waiting for the coach to come out from is office to begin class.

            “What?” Jack asked.

            “I know it was you.  You wrote the note on Friday…The one I found in my gym locker…” Lyle repeated, pushing a stray strand of his cocoa hair behind his ear.  “I just wanted to know why.”

            “I’m sorry…”

            “It’s okay…I just want to know how come you wrote it.” Lyle repeated, picking at his chipping, painted fingernails.

            “I don’t know.” Jack said simply, looking away.  Lyle nodded.

            “Okay.” He replied, smiling up at the teacher as he checked Lyle off on his attendance sheet.  Lyle decided to leave it at that for now…There wasn’t anything he could do.  If Jack didn’t want to say anything, he didn’t have to. Lyle had been through worse than someone calling him a fag.  He wasn’t going to let this phase him.  But deep down—or not so deep down—it did hurt his feelings.

 

Later, Lyle found himself beside Jack in the hallway.

            “Why aren’t you mad?” Jack asked him, refusing to look him in the eye.

            “I just…I figured you had a reason…I know you wouldn’t do it for no reason.”

            “You should still be mad.”

            “You’re my friend.”

            “My dad got a new girlfriend.”

            “Oh.” Lyle said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

            “She says I’m fat and that I need to lose weight.” He looked tearful, and Lyle pulled him into a hug as he began to cry.  “I’m sorry, Lyle.  I just felt bad and I thought…I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay.  Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.” Lyle smiled, holding the door to their literature class open for him and following him inside.

            “Hello, Lyle! Hello Jack!” Mr. Lamarque smiled as they walked inside, though his smile faded when he saw Jack’s reddened face. “Are you alright, Jack?” he asked. Jack nodded.

            “Just a little sad.  But he’s okay, right?” Lyle said with a smile towards Jack.  Jack sat at his desk and looked down at his hands.

            “Lyle, I heard about the incident with your gym locker.  Is everything alright?”  Lyle nodded and looked to Jack again, and found him with his face in his arms. Lyle scribbled down ‘it was Jack’ on one of his pale pink sticky notes and passed it to Mr. Lamarque, who nodded.

            “Everything’s okay.” Lyle grinned.

            “You are a good friend, Lyle.” He returned the smile as the rest of the class filed into the room.

            “Hey Jack.” Lyle cooed, giving him a tap on the shoulder.  He looked up sadly, though his face was no longer red. “want to come to my birthday party Friday?”

            “You want to invite me over?” Jack asked.  Lyle nodded.

            “You’re my friend.  Why wouldn’t I want to have you over?  All you did was write a few words on a sticky note.  It takes more than that to make me upset.” He chuckled.

            “Thanks, Lyle.” Jack smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

That Friday afternoon, the entire flower shop and greenhouse was decorated for Lyle’s thirteenth birthday.  Feuilly hung pink and green streamers from the ceiling, Jehan set the table-turned-buffet with their finest crystal and china dishes. Flowers acted as a lovely, fragrant backdrop for the fruit salad, cucumber sandwiches, and professionally decorated, flower covered cupcakes.  Lyle was delighted when he came in from school.  He ran to Feuilly and jumped into his arms, his flow-y white skirt twirling as he spun him.

            “Thank you! It looks so pretty!” he cooed as Feuilly placed him gently down.

            “Anything for you, Little Love!” Jehan smiled, fixing Lyle’s hair and placing a crown of large, colorful blooms.

            “When will everyone be here?” Lyle asked, looking around, his eyes shining.

            “Four! Very soon!” Lyle smiled.

 

—o0o—

 

“Are we horribly, terribly late?” Joly asked as he and Bossuet came in, the little bell on the door chiming gaily as they did.

            “Joly nobody else is here yet.” Bossuet laughed, carrying Lyle’s present: a large, wrapped, oddly shaped…something…with a  big bow, the paper decorated with lollypops and streamers.

            “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late!” Joly continued. Lyle scurried to him and gave him a hug.

            “You’re not late, Joly.  You’re just on time.” Lyle smiled.  Joly was startled by the hug, but returned it a moment later with a grin.  Lyle was tall, the same height as Jehan, and Joly’s Asian heritage and short parents assured he would never reach six feet, so Lyle was able to give him a proper hug.  Joly smiled, and Bossuet was ready with a squirt of hand sanitizer the moment Lyle pulled away.  Lyle knew better than to be offended.  It wasn’t mean. It was just Joly.

            “Whoa who painted this up?” Feuilly asked, giving Joly’s prosthetic left leg a little tap with his toe.

            “Grantaire did it for the party.  I know Lyle likes flowers, so I had him paint it up!” Joly explained, holding up his prosthetic to show the field of detailed flowers painted on the surface. Joly was always having Grantaire paint his leg up for occasions.  Acrylic paint washed right off with soap and water, so he could change it up whenever he wanted to.

            “Wow that’s pretty!” Lyle cooed.  The bell on the door rang again, and René ran to Lyle, hugging him around his skinny middle.

            “Happy Birthday, Lyle!” he sang.  Lyle laughed.

            “Thank you, René!”

            “Wow you have big cupcakes.” He smiled.  René had inherited his monster sweet tooth from Enjolras, and being five, he could hardly contain himself around treats.

            “Cupcakes later, René!  Happy birthday, Lyle.” Enjolras smiled, placing their tower of three presents—one from each of them—next to Joly and Bossuet’s.           

            “Man, you guys really spiffied up the place.” Grantaire said, looking around.

            “Papa can I have raspberries?” René asked quietly, tugging on Grantaire’s sleeve.

            “Ask Uncle Jehan.” Grantaire replied.  Jehan was already on it, and handed René a little china dish of raspberries from the large bowl of fruit.

            “What do you say, Sunshine?” Enjolras prompted.

            “Tankoo.” René cooed around his mouthful of berries. 

            “Anything for my lovely René Jehan.” Jehan ran a hand through René’s golden curls.

            “Okay I’m here, the party can start now!” Courfeyrac shouted as he and Combeferre entered the shop, Courfeyrac with his cane, Combeferre with a big box of presents. Courfeyrac had suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident, and walked with a cane, but the crash hadn’t changed his outgoing personality.

            “We got you a present!” Combeferre added meekly from behind their tall, skinny box, all wrapped up in paper covered in butterflies and, of course, moths.

            “Thank you guys!” Lyle smiled, giving Combeferre and Courfeyrac a hug before running to meet Grace at the door.

            “Hi Lyle!” she said with her metal-laden smile.  Lyle hugged her too, and she handed him a small purple bag with tissue paper inside and a big bow around the handles.

            “I’m so happy you came!” Lyle cooed.

            “Hey who’s this?  Found a girlfriend, Lyle?” Grantaire joked with a chuckle. 

            “I like your hair.” Combeferre added, smiling at Grace’s messy, Pippi Longstocking braids.

            “Thanks.” She said with a smile.  “And I’m not Lyle’s girlfriend!  Lyle’s _my_ girlfriend.” She joked. Grantaire laughed.

            “I like this kid, Lyle.  Keep her around.” He smiled.  “I’m Lyle’s Uncle Grantaire.” He offered little Grace his hand, and she shook it confidently.

            “Nice to meet you, Mr. Grantaire!” she grinned.

            “Hey everybody this is Grace!” Lyle did his best to shout, but he was so softspoken, it came out at a rather average volume.  Still, everyone turned their attention to Lyle.

            “Oh, I know Grace!” Joly smiled.  “I was your doctor when you were little.  Now I see your brother Daniel.” Joly was a pediatrician, and knew lots of the kids around town from their various visits.

            “He threw up on you once.” Grace smiled.  Joly seemed to flinch, but returned the grin.  “I didn’t know you only had one leg though!” she added, sounding very excited, inspecting Joly’s prosthetic.

            “Don’t ride your bike in the street!” he warned with a wink. Grace giggled.

            “So you know Joly, I guess,” Lyle began, looking to everyone around the room. “That’s Joly’s boyfriend Bossuet, that’s Combeferre and Courfeyrac has the cane, and that’s Enjolras, and that’s Enjolras and Grantaire’s kid René.” René blushed at the sound of his name, and covered his face with his hands for a moment before giggling and giving a sort of squirm in his chair.  Though he was only five, he thought Grace was very pretty, and was too shy to even look at her properly.  Grace gave him a little wave.

            “Are other people coming?”

            “Papa are Uncle Marius and Aunt Cosette coming?”

            “They’re away visiting Marius’ grandpa today.  Sorry bud.  Uncle Bahorel couldn’t make it either.  He has work.” Feuilly explained.

            “Well that means the only one left is Jack.” Lyle smiled.  Feuilly nodded.

            When Lyle said he wanted to invite Jack, Feuilly had been apprehensive to let him. Why should Lyle cater to some little jerk who did something so mean to him?  But Jehan thought it was a kind gesture, and so Jack was invited. Lyle explained to his parents that Jack was having a difficult time at home, and that was the reason for his unkind words to Lyle.  Jehan and Feuilly were both so proud of little Lyle for forgiving Jack, and looking deeper into the issue to make sure his friend was all right, instead of staying angry and upset.

            “Oh Jack’s coming too?” Grace asked, a curious look in her eyes. She had caught wind of what happened, and knew Jack was behind the nasty note in Lyle’s locker.

            “Yup. He’s my friend too.” He smiled, and rushed to greet Jack when he came through the door with his father.

            “Hello, Mr. Elliot.” Feuilly said, offering his hand to Jack’s father, his expression remaining serious—no undeserved smiles from Feuilly.

            “I came to apologize on behalf of Jack.  Believe me, there will be consequences.”

            “Don’t worry about it.  Kids do stuff like that all the time.” Feuilly replied, this time with a small grin.

            “You’ve got a great kid, there.  He’s a good friend.”

            “Yeah. He’s a great kid.” Feuilly beamed.

            “I’ll pick him up at eight?”

            “Eight-o-clock!”

            “Bye, Jack!”

            “Bye Dad.” Jack said with a smile, handing Lyle a small box with pink wrapping paper and a little yellow bow.  “Pink and yellow are your favorite, right?” Jack inquired.

            “Yes they’re my favorite!” Lyle smiled, giving Jack a hug.

 

There was suddenly an audible hiccup from René, and everyone whipped around.  The baby sat on the floor, frosting covering his cheeks and hands, a cupcake wrapper in his lap.

            “René!” Enjolras scolded, “What did you do?!”

            “I didn’t do anything.” René replied innocently, looking at his lap.

            “Did you eat a cupcake?”

            “no.” he tried very hard to hold back a giggle.  Grantaire laughed.

            “Let’s clean you up, Sunshine.” Grantaire smiled, lifting René off the floor and carrying him into the bathroom to help him clean up.  Lyle was in stiches.

 

—o0o—

           

“Open up your presents, Lyle.” Feuilly said with a smile as he sat on the sofa, sucking on a dumdum from Lyle’s party earlier. It was late, and Lyle was all showered and ready for bed, but he still hadn’t unwrapped his gifts.

            “Oh yes Lovely open them!  I want to see what everyone gave you!  that was so sweet of them.” Jehan added, sitting cross-legged on the lazy chair, a mug of tea in his delicate hands.

            “Okay.” Lyle agreed, slipping from his seat beside Feuilly and onto the floor, where they had placed his gifts.  He began with Joly and Bossuet’s relatively large, oddly shaped box. He removed the paper carefully, intending to use it to cover his school books and decorate notebooks later, and slowly revealed something fluffy and multicolored.  Lyle laughed, pulling a unicorn pillow pet out of the paper, as well as an envelope.

            “It’s so sweet!” Jehan cooed.

            “There’s an envelope, too.” Feuilly said.  Lyle opened that as well, revealing a card with money inside.

            “it says ‘we didn’t know what to get you!  Have this little friend and some money to get what you want. Love you!  Love Joly and Bossuet.’” He read.

            “That was so sweet of them.” Jehan said again.  “Open another one!  Open the ones from Enjolras and Grantaire and René.”  Lyle did, starting with the smallest box of the three. On the practical brown paper was written in marker: Love René! In his scribbly handwriting.  Lyle removed it delicately.  That deserved a place of honor on his bedroom wall.  Inside the box was a beautiful silk scarf, long and smooth, with a floral design embroidered onto the ends.

            “That’s beautiful.” Feuilly noted, leaning forward to run his hand down the material.

            “I’m going to steal that from you, Lyle!” Jehan joked.

            “We can share!” Lyle smiled, folding the scarf carefully and returning it to its box.  He moved on to the next gift, this one reading: Love from Enjolras and Grantaire.  Inside was a bundle of every colored embroidery floss and a handful of antique beads.  There was also a small but thick book underneath, titled ‘friendship bracelets’. Lyle was delighted.

            “I used to make bracelets like that all the time when I was little!” Jehan smiled.

            “You have to show me how to make fancy ones!” Lyle added.

            “Jehan made me this one in high school.” Feuilly showed Lyle his ankle, where he wore a thick, intricate bracelet.  Though it was somewhat dirty and faded, it was still beautiful. “It’s sort of gross, I haven’t taken it off in like ten years, but it’s still on there!” he smiled. Lyle chuckled, moving on to the final gift from Enjolras and Grantaire.  This one bore a note written in Grantaire’s scratchy hand: this gift doesn’t really count.  It’s sort of a joke. Hope you like it anyway! Lyle unwrapped it and found a Chia pet inside.  He laughed.

            “Look how cute it is!” he said, holding it up.

            “Oh goodness!” Jehan laughed as well.

            “Okay so when I lived in the orphanage when I was little, all these people brought toys for us at Christmas, and I was always last to get to the stuff, and every year, all that was left was a Chia pet, and it was always from the same people, and I always got it because nobody else wanted it, but when I had a cool plant friend and everyone else had a toy with no batteries left, they were all jealous.” Feuilly smirked, somehow pleased with himself for upstaging all of the other orphans he lived with for the first ten years of his life.

            “I’m glad you had a plant friend, Feuilly.” Jehan giggled.

            “This one is from Grace.” Lyle said, moving on to the purple bag.

            “She’s so sweet.” Jehan cooed.

            “Oh! Dad look!” Lyle pulled a paper fan out of the bag and laughed, recognizing one of Feuilly’s own creations. “She must have bought it down town in one of the shops you have them at!”

            “She picked a nice one.  That one took forever.” Feuilly grinned.

            “That’s so funny!  What are the odds?!” Jehan chuckled, sipping his tea, his hair in a damp bun on the very top of his head, loose strands falling around his girlish face.  Lyle carefully placed the fan with his pillow pet. Next came Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s gift.  It was a large, skinny box, but lightweight, and Lyle had no clue what it could possibly be, but he was pleasantly surprised when he found a clear plastic box filled with a garland of flowers and butterflies interspersed between twinkling lights.

            “We have to hang it up in my room, okay?” Lyle said with a smile. “It’s so pretty!”

            “I’m going to steal that too!” Jehan cooed.

            “You can come visit in my room.” Lyle giggled again.

 

After unwrapping gifts Marius and Cosette had sent in the mail—a thick sweater with an ‘L’ in the middle, like the ones in Harry Potter, and a pretty notebook with sparkly pencils—as well as a small gift Bahorel had sent—a necklace with a small but very detailed enameled flower on the chain—Lyle finally turned to Jack’s small gift.  He opened it slowly, and smiled when he opened the box. Inside was a little bird carved from wood and painted to look real.  It was a little chickadee, and it was attached to a clothespin so it could be clipped places.  In the clothespin was closed a very small roll of paper.  Lyle unrolled it and read it out loud.

 

_Sorry I was mean. You’re a good friend.  Happy Birthday! ~Jack_

 

            “That was very nice of him.” Jehan smiled.

            “Yeah. That little bird is pretty cool too. Can I see?” Feuilly asked. Lyle handed it to him, and he inspected it for a long moment.  “Pretty. Someone painted it, it looks like.”

            “Everyone was so nice!  Look at all this stuff!” Lyle grinned, snuggling his pillow pet in his lap.

            “Oh Feuilly, we almost forgot about our present.” Jehan said with a sneaky sort of smile.  Feuilly returned the grin.

            “I’ll go get it.” He said, standing and leaving the room, heading back into the guest room down the hall.  “Close your eyes, Lyle!” he called after a moment.  Lyle did, and could hardly contain his excitement and curiosity when he heard Feuilly’s footsteps approaching.  Something warm and soft was placed in his lap.

            “Open your eyes!” Jehan cooed.  Lyle did, and his smile was radiant when he saw the little lop-eared bunny in his lap.

            “Oh my gosh look how sweet she is!” Lyle said, petting the little bunny, smoothing his ears and scratching his back.  “She’s so cute!”

            “you have to name her!” Jehan said.

            “hm…Flower.” Lyle said after thinking for a moment.

            “I think that’s a good name for a floppy bunny.” Feuilly smiled.

            “I think so too!  Welcome to the Prouvaire family, Flower!” Jehan cooed.

            “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Lyle said, petting the bunny and looking around at all of the wonderful gifts his friends—no, his family—had given him.  A year ago, he never would have imagined he’d be so happy.  When Lyle arrived, he was sure he was unlovable.  Nobody had ever really cared about him before, and all he had known was suffering and abuse, but the moment he met Jehan and Feuilly, his life completely turned around.  He was happier than he could have ever dreamed, and in that moment, he was positive everything was perfect.  Everything was Lovely.  
  


 

  
  
~That's all she wrote, folks!  
I really hope you liked this story.  It was fun to write!  Don't worry, there will be more or Lyle in the series, I think...Perhaps a little older?  Not sure yet.  Anyhow, have a nice Thanks Giving if you're in the USA, and a nice regular day if you're any other place!  Yay two chapters at once!  Wow!  Much words!  very story!  Wow!


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